


La-La Narf

by cheeserollcall



Category: Animaniacs, Pinky and the Brain, Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988)
Genre: M/M, and the idea of toons and people living together, and those overly long animaniacs fics, based on the toontown au from roger rabbit, but not explicitly romantic, but with more mice, english is not my first language pls be kind, light slash, tw for animal experimentation and some blood and toon violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:00:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27521152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheeserollcall/pseuds/cheeserollcall
Summary: There's only one thing lower than a Toon: a laboratory-bred Toon. And no place creates more lab-bred toons, mindless creatures forced to be the subjects of cruel experiments with Dip, than Acme Labs. But two toon mice long for something more than a sad quiet life inside the dark facility: One wants to take over the world, and the other one wants to be a star! (narf) Will their dreams of greatness come true, or will Toontown Hollywood get in their way?
Relationships: Brain/Pinky (Pinky and the Brain)
Comments: 115
Kudos: 261





	1. The Brisby Act

_**Burbank, California, 1992** _

From the moment humans and toons started to interact, humans displayed their most instinctive nature: the need to probe, cut, dissect, destroy anything different to them, to understand it in their most primitive way. Like an annoying girl squeezing a kitten just to see what happens.

Hence, in the late 80s the US government approved the Brisby Act, which stated no sentient toon _with free will_ could be the subject of human experiments.

Of course, humans always find a loophole. Toons, after all, could be created by human hands, and their creator could modify them to his whim.

Therefore, if a toon was created inside a lab, it was simply drawn _without_ free will, and humans could probe, paint, erase, redraw, create and destroy the helpless sentient creature, for as long as they wanted. After all, only high quantities of Dip (that god awful mixture of turpentine, acetone, and benzine) could kill a toon, and they were easily replaceable. It was unethical, but legal. Toons could sue, yes, but they only had a right to a bunny ears lawyer, in a kangaroo court. And law doesn’t work when the judge and your lawyer are bouncing around.

No place exploited that loophole more than the infamous Acme Labs, a dark underground facility between Toontown and Burbank, where toons were constantly bred to die.

Every day was the same thing. Toon rodents were forced to test Dip in different concentrations. If one of them complained too much, was different in any way, or was “defective” (whatever that meant, it tended to be completely subjective), they’d be taken to the Dipping Room, where large barrels of concentrated Dip awaited those unfortunate enough to stand out. No one who entered the Dipping room, ever got out. 

One toon mouse in particular, had managed to escape being Dipped many times, outsmarting the scientists. It was his intelligence that made him stand out (and his tendency to bite). After three attempts to sue, he knew the Brisby Act by heart. Reciting the act even in his dreams did nothing for his situation, though, and it irritated him greatly that, despite his great intellect, he was still just another mouse trapped in a legal maze. 

So, there he was, painting back his tail for the third time this week. Why humans decided it was a matter of science to dissolve toon tails with Dip was beyond him. And since drawing something on your back is not easy, he always struggled to get it right; this time his tail came out crooked.

He suspected human race, more than intelligence, had sadism as its defining trait.

But one day, he knew things would be different. For, who could imagine that he, a simple toon mouse, the lowest of creatures, would one day RULE THE WORLD! YES! And under his command, the Brisby Act would be reformed, and no other toon would ever again be the subject of cruel experiments with Dip. No one would ever have to suffer again. And everything would be better.

His illusions of grandeur were the only thing keeping him sane. Really, between the lab experiments and his own numerous family all cramped inside a tiny cage, well…

“Brian, honey, it's time for supper!” His mother called him, and he stopped sketching blueprints on his notebook.

“It’s _Brain_ , mom. And I’m not hungry.” He pondered if it was too late to hide his secret log of world domination plans inside his hammerspace, but his mother would notice, and she would start nagging about how lab-bred toons weren’t supposed to use toon physics and whatever.

 _That’s for free toons_ , she’d say. Brain would argue that in his mind, he was free, but he didn’t feel like arguing today.

“You need to eat. Otherwise, your stomach will be empty for tomorrow’s experiments!”

“Heaven forbid I have nothing to throw up when those hairless apes force me to smell Dip for their so-called _science_ ” He marked the air quotes. His mother let out a deep sigh, as if they didn’t have that exact same discussion almost every day; and left one sad food pellet near his notebook, muttering something about how one day his stubbornness would get him Dipped.

To a certain point, Brain understood her concern. Laboratory bred toons were not supposed to have more ambition than to wait for the next cruel experiment. They were drawn without drive, without wit. They didn't even have names (and at least his mom respected his wish to be called _the Brain_ , even though most of the time she got the name wrong.)

Something must have gone wrong with him, who had ambition to spare, and enough intelligence to use it. It was his destiny, waiting for him. Or maybe he was just defective. 

Finally, away from his mother’s scrutiny, he shoved his notebook, pencil and the food pellet inside his hammerspace, going out for a walk. He passed by his cramped family fighting for food pellets, ignored his mother warning him to not get lost (as if he were that stupid), and his father telling him a mouse’s place is his cage; and made his way through the other rodents crammed inside the narrow space, struggling to get out and breath some fresh, not mousy air. 

Again, this was frowned upon in his Toon rodent society. For them the biggest torture was to be alone, or at least not surrounded by thirty or so mice. Brain had actually tried to teach them how to force open the locks of the cage, but no one wanted to do so. They seemed to relish it, cramped inside the tiny cage, paws over heads next to butts, tails intertwined...

He’d never get it.

His feet led him towards his favorite place in the lab; so familiar it was for him that he could make the way with his eyes closed. He let his mind wander, thinking of world domination and other interesting pastimes for mice his age, like... building machines for world domination.

He loved the window sill because of the view. The whole city of ToonTown could be seen from where he sat: shiny, promising... impossible. It would be so easy to just jump and run away from here... If he was a free toon, he would make his body rubbery, control gravity on his way down, and squash and stretch when touching the ground, landing gracefully in one piece… But he was a lab-bred toon. He'd probably break all of his bones, like any organic creature.

All of this, minus the sweet release of death even organic mice got. What a bargain!

Brain snorted, with bitter sarcasm, and took out the food pellet. He wasn’t even hungry, he was just anxious.

As soon as he took it out, he heard a gasp, which made him jump and look back.

There, in the shadows, was another cage. How didn’t he notice it sooner? It hadn’t been there last night. Cursing his scientific curiosity, but letting it lure him anyways, he walked tiny steps towards it, until he was face to face with two hungry blue orbs, shining in the dark.

Brain gasped when he noticed the orbs following his every move…. Oh, wait, no. They were following the food pellet. He moved it up and down, trying and failing not to shake, and the eyes followed. 

The creature with the blue orbs as eyes made a little sound, which startled Brain so much he dropped the food pellet.

“Who are you?” Brain asked, hoping the creature had some intelligence, but doubting it.

He suspected that… thing was the new mouse, who caused a stir when he arrived a few months back, since some doubted he was lab-bred. Most rodents speculated that the creature had been kidnapped by the scientists at Acme Labs. Given their shady practices, Brain had no doubt this was the case.

However, they had also warned him to stay away from the creature. Rumor had it, the creature was the subject of an experiment with boiling Dip, and the vapors had melted its brain, making it less than alive, but not exactly dead. Either that, or it was an idiot. And the Brain had enough idiots in his life to let another one in.

That didn’t matter right now. He’d say it was his boredom or his need to get rid of the food pellet, but if he were to be honest, the whimpering, almost pleading cries of the creature were haunting him. He got close enough to touch the bars of the cage, and managed to make out a small silhouette in the shadows.

“Is this what you want? Are you hungry?” He asked, his voice shivery.

“Why, thank you so much! Narf! I’m starving, actually!” The creature answered, in a high-pitched Cockney accent.

Ok, that was unexpected (also, the accent, what was up with that accent?). The creature walked towards the light on its hind legs, and it wasn't a brain-dead zombie, it was a…

Another mouse, his white fur shining under the moonlight, with bright eyes so impossibly blue they reminded Brain of those famous Toons’ swimming pools he had seen in magazines. 

The mouse, tall and lanky, approached Brain and carefully took the food pellet from his hand, as if he was trying not to startle Brain even further. Really, he looked petrified.

“They gave me cheese a few weeks ago, but it hurt so much!” The mouse explained “As if instead of me eating the cheese, the cheese was eating me back! Poit!” he giggled, and devoured the food pellet.

Cheese laced with Dip. Those bastards.

Brain wasn't the compassionate kind, but the idea of being forced to eat Dip, feeling it gnaw at his insides, lest he starve, made him feel sorry for the other mouse. Looking closely, he noted he could count his ribs.

“I know how to get you some cheese that won’t eat you back” Brain offered quickly, not knowing the reasoning behind that impulse. Perhaps it had something to do with the other mouse’s smile lighting up his blue eyes even more, if that was even possible.

He assumed the happy “Naaaarf” the other mouse said meant something akin to “sure, let’s go”

A picked lock, and a quick escapade to the kitchen later, the two mice sat by the windowsill, enjoying the view. While the other mouse nibbled his cheese, Brain told him... everything. For the first time he felt comfortable, even content, with the moonlight over them, the faint smell of stolen cheese, the… company. For a moment there was nothing else in the world but the shiny city below them, and the two mice under the moonlight, eating cheese. Somehow, this mouse was different than everyone else he’d met before, as if there was no room inside his mind for judgement. His mind was rather empty, to be honest.

“....Therefore, someone needs to reform the Brisby Act, and...” While he was talking the other mouse was taking stuff out of his hammerspace; first more cheese, some crackers, a thimble with tea, a watermelon… By the time Brain concluded his monologue with a "That is why I have to take over the world", the mouse was struggling to take a whole minibar out of his hammerspace

“What are you doing? Stop it! They'll see you!”

“What?” The mouse asked, opening the minibar and taking out a... flan?

“Your hammerspace! We’re not supposed to have one” Brain insisted, scanning for someone spying on them, just in case. 

“Because why?” the mouse innocently tilted his head to one side.

“Because we’re lab-bred! Toon physics doesn't apply to us, real physics does!”

“Well, that sounds boring, doesn’t it? Why, I think we can do anything as long as it’s funny!” He took a series of colorful handkerchiefs tied together out of his hammerspace, one after the other, and he pulled, pulled, pulled until the last handkerchief had a tiny globe keychain that he offered to Brain. As soon as Brain touched it, it vanished in a silvery-blue wisp of smoke, making him gasp in amazement. 

“I still can’t make them stay for too long, zort!” The mouse sighed heavily, his shoulders lowering in mild defeat. “I even tried inviting them for tea! But maybe they'd rather have coffee?"

Brain looked around, seeing the rest of the objects vanish in that pretty blue smoke. That was impressive, he had to admit, he couldn’t materialize objects out of thin air. Those were advanced toon physics, no one in the lab could. Or so he thought.

“Who taught you how to do this?”

“The big talking box over there!” He pointed at the TV, and sighed dreamily “There’s this toon dog, oh Brain, he’s so funny! His laugh, it's something like...” He let out an “ah-hyuck” followed by another “Narf!”, and he giggled at his own attempt.

“Goofy?”

“That’s his name, isn’t it?” He sighed, staring longingly at the dark screen. “Imagine living inside and making people laugh! I wanna _be_ there, Brain, poit!” His voice was heavy with yearning "But when I tried to enter the box, there was only darkness and cables."

Brain tried his best not to scoff (and failed miserably). _Of course_ , he wanted to be a star. All toons wanted that. Even Brain’s mom sometimes fantasized about it. Want it or not, toons, even lab-bred, still knew, from the bottom of their hearts, that they needed to make other people happy, and that tended to pull them towards showbiz. Either that, or the power and the big mansions with impossibly blue swimming pools that come with the fame and fortune of a performer toon, which sounded more interesting for Brain.

So yeah, all toons wanted to be stars. But not everyone could. Especially toons like them, who weren't supposed to have toon physics, free will, let along a name.

He honestly thought his new acquaintance had just been lucky, that his display of power was a probabilistic anomaly, but he decided to spare him from the truth, at least for now that he had a plan brewing.

“Perhaps if someone smarter than you had enough power to take over the world, they could make you a star! Are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

“I think so Brain, but I don’t even have a name yet.”

“We’ll figure that out eventually. What if you help me take over the world, and I make you a star of the silver screen?”

“Egad, Brain, brilliant! But that screen is more like, blackish, isn’t it?” 

One quick bonk on his head, that the mouse laughed at, and a more serious handshake later (or at least Brain intended it to be a handshake, the mouse pulled him for a hug instead), a partnership had officially been established.

Life inside Acme Labs would never be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a homage to those long Animaniacs fics that have some Who Framed Roger Rabbit? elements on them, like Family or La Resistance; while also being a long fic with some Animaniacs and WFRR? sprinkled over. This is still primarily a Pinky and the Brain fic, because we all need more mice.
> 
> References, references... The name of the fic comes from me listening to La La Land on loop while writing this, the fact that this story has everything to do with showbiz, and because "La La Land" is used to describe someone with their head in the clouds, very fitting for Pinky.
> 
> The Brisby Act, as you can imagine, is a reference to Mrs. Brisby in Secret of NIMH, which in this world was more of a documentary than a fictional movie.
> 
> The cartoon Pinky was watching was probably Goofy's Olympics, like Roger does in WFRR? There's a lot of parallels in this story between Pinky and Roger Rabbit, as you will find out eventually.
> 
> A flan is a custard-like dessert, and for some reason Pinky takes one out of a fridge during his song "Just Say Narf" (it rhymes with pan).
> 
> Also the scene with the handkerchief trick is supposed to play out like that scene in The Castle of Cagliostro with Lupin enchanting Lady Clarisse with magic, because I'm a hopeless romantic (but the story won't be, you have my word)


	2. The Fools Who Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for reference to the q-word

“No, Pinky, the _other_ lever! That’s the self-destruct lever! Nyaaah!” The chubby mouse yelped, as an explosion threw him straight to the wall, into the trash can. 

From the cages surrounding them, the rest of the rodents stared at the pair, amused.

Brain's head peeked from the trash can, all wobbly and with a banana peel on top

"Remind me… to take the self destruct lever… out of our blueprints, Pinky" he mumbled dazedly and fainted into the trash can.

There was roaring applause and deafening laughter. 

Pinky fell next to him, so gracefully it seemed gravity affected him differently. He took his partner out of the trash can, brushed the banana peel off his head (which scored them even more applause and laughter) and bowed at their improvised audience.

Glaring at every rodent across the room, saving his deadliest glare for his cagemate, Brain took his wrist and pulled him away, right when Pinky was about to catch a paper rose from one of their fans.

It had been their routine for a couple of weeks now, since Brain moved to Pinky’s cage. They’d try every night to take over the world, and every night they failed. One or two rodents, who were awake by the time of their plans, told the rest, and suddenly one night, their plan had an audience. A Full House, Pinky called it with teary eyes (narf).

Understandably, Brain despised the attention.

“Stop encouraging them Pinky! We don’t need them to remind us of the constant failure of our plans with their cruel rejoicing"

"Oh, Brain, how can we fail when we make someone else laugh? Zort!" 

“They laugh _at us_ , Pinky, not _with us_ ”

“But I’m laughing too! see?” Pinky said, and fell to the floor laughing

“Making you laugh is not a particularly difficult feat, Pinky. Perhaps you’re used to being the laughingstock, but not me. Now come. We must prepare for tomorrow night.”

“Are we having a full house again?” Pinky asked, standing up in a quick jump.

Before Brain could mutter _where_ Pinky should stuff his full houses, his mom caught both mice in a bear hug"

“Oh, Brian, that was hilarious! I didn’t know you had it in you! Making a machine with a self destruct lever? Genius!” She let them go, and he brushed his fur, annoyed

“I’m glad you have fun at my expense, mother.” He muttered sarcastically “And it’s _The Brain_ ”

“Honestly, I was so worried about the runt of our litter wanting to leave the nest and move with his mate! But I’m glad you did! I had never seen you this happy before!” She took Pinky’s paws “Thank you, darling, for taking my dear Brian out of his shell!”

“Oh, you’re welcome Madame! I didn’t know Brain was a slug! That explains his size, though, and that slimy thing that appears in his pillow every morning, narf!”

“That’s a snail, you imbecile, snails have shells” Brain explained wearily “And it’s _Brain_ , mom. And could you _please_ refrain from telling everyone we meet about my nocturnal sialorrhea, Pinky? We already discuss--”

“Also, _narf_? That is so funny! See, your partner is a really funny mouse, why can’t you be funny?!”She nudged her son’s ribs a little too roughly “You should be on TV, Pinky! Why, did you know I could have been a star?” She took Pinky away, probably to tell him the story every toon had of how-they-could-have-made-it-but-didn’t, and Brain knew that story already (and he couldn't care less).

He was still grumbling, trying to save some parts of their failed plan for later, when he heard someone carelessly kicking the metal scraps. 

“Pinky, I told you a thousand times to handle our scraps with care!” He chided, not even looking up. When not a single “poit!” was heard, he lifted his head, to find another rodent with a rather nasty grin on his face. “I don’t give autographs, so beat it” He growled, and the rodent, a golden hamster, snickered, kicking another scrap.

“I am aware of that” He said smugly, and circled Brain “I’ve seen you, mouse.”

“The name’s _The Brain_ ” 

“Quite an ironic name, I see” Since when were there so many mysterious rodents with English accents?! “Well, Brain, I’ve seen your silly little show, and I’ve noticed you’re not particularly… skilled in the entertainment department”

“Your point?”

“You’re not funny” The hamster shrugged, and Brain rolled his eyes and continued picking up metal scraps

“I appreciate the review, Roger Ebert, but I don’t intend to be funny”

“Of course you don't! You want to take over the world, don’t you? You know, that’s an interesting coincidence…” his eyes shone, and one of his hind paws stepped on the metal piece Brain was about to pick “So do I.”

That stopped Brain on his tracks, the metal scraps slipping off his arms onto the floor.

“You do?” 

“Indeed. But I haven’t succeeded, as it’s apparent. One can’t take over the world by oneself, which is why, I presume, you got yourself that **_quir_ ** ky little partner of yours.” He elongated the first syllable of _quirky_ , making it sound like another word, making Brain narrow his eyes. “Am I right? But you keep on failing, you know why?” He slipped his arm over Brain’s shoulder.

“That’s none of your business” Brain answered flatly, and tried to pry himself free of the hamster’s uncomfortable embrace, but the hamster held him tighter. Ouch. Too tight

“Because your _cohort_ is not a political analyst, an engineer, or a sociologist, like I am. He’s an idiot. Even worse, he’s a performer.” 

“Pinky, a performer? That’s preposterous! He’s a lab-bred toon, he can’t--”

“Brain, _buddy_ , I thought you were supposed to be smart. Look at him. He sings, dances, always laughs when you hurt him, bounces when he falls… Haven’t you noticed there’s music out of nowhere when he sings? Only toons who have _it_ can conjure an invisible orchestra. That mouse has _it_. Are you seriously failing to realize how that could serve your plans? My dear friend...” 

Brain tried not to grimace at the tight embrace, the hamster's fingers digging uncomfortably into his arm, and instead focused on what the hamster was saying. Of course he hadn’t thought about that, what did he think, that he spent all of his very little free time pondering about the extravagant nature of his cagemate? Why, he had better things to worry about! Plans to implement; things to do that didn’t involve Pinky at all! 

All things considered, Pinky _was_ an intriguing individual, he had to admit. He had, indeed, a knack for the thespian arts, not even he remembered much about his past, and when asked about the weird abilities he inexplicably possessed, Pinky tended to attribute them to “narf”, that nonsensical syllable he liked so much. But no, he hadn’t pondered about Pinky _that_ much. He had considered the music when Pinky sang, but he assumed only he could hear it because… well, nevermind. 

“I have a deal for you. There’s gonna be an audition real soon in Toontown, at the Warner lot. They’re looking for mice”

“Thanks for the memo, but--”

“I can get him the audition. I happen to have embarrassing pictures of one of the casting directors, and he knows there will be nasty consequences if he doesn’t comply. So, we send your special little friend, he gets the role and we get the money! Say, we split his earnings 50/50? If the fame gets to his head and he wants some of that cash, we can easily get rid of him and find another mouse. As for you and I--” He finally let go of Brain, who needed all of his self control not to rub his sore arms. He could still feel the pressure over them. “ _We_ take over the world. I’ll let you have America, just leave me the UK. All of our dreams can come true.” He offered Brain a sleazy car salesman grin. 

“Tone it down, Walt Disney. What makes you think I’ll share the world with you?”

“Don’t think of everything as a competition, my fair Brainy. It’s more of a partnership! So, what’s it gonna be, buddy?” 

“Thank you, _buddy_ , but Pinky and I can manage on our own _without_ blackmailing casting directors” He thought the hamster would get mad, and mentally prepared himself to take a mallet out of his hammerspace. Before he even conjured it, the hamster had already taken out his, and was playing with it nonchalantly.

“ _Blackmailing_ is such an ugly word! I prefer to call it... showbiz. Listen, Abbott” he said condescendingly “We’re not hurting your little pet, as long as he behaves. Try to take even one step towards Hollywood without an agent, you can’t. You _need_ me. The audition is in three weeks. So, if by then you realize exploiting your Costello is the real way out of this hellhole, gimme a call, will you?” He handed Brain a business card.

 _“Snowball: scummy toon agent, evil genius hamster”_ Brain read aloud “You really don’t hide your true colors, do you?” He muttered and looked up, but the hamster was already gone. 

“Who was that, Brain?” A familiar voice came from behind and he shoved the card into his pocket as quickly as possible, turning around to face Pinky with a big fake smile

“Who? No one!” He cleared his throat “A… fan. He wanted a picture with you” Brain lied, and Pinky blushed.

“Naaaarf! Really? Did he like our show?”

“It’s not a _show_ , Pinky, it’s another failed ploy for world domination, and if you took it seriously for once, then maybe…” He interrupted himself, and smiled again “I mean, yes! he loved it. He said you were surprising”

The taller mouse gushed even more and hugged Brain.

“Oh Brain! don’t you love it? We can make people happy! Zort!”

Brain rejected the hug, pondering about the sleazy hamster, and if he had done the right choice. But any choice that made him share anything was terrible in the first place, so he dismissed that guilty feeling inside that made him wonder if he had taken decisions in the name of his roommate, and bad decisions to boot.

…. Nah! Anything to keep Snowball away from them was the right choice, even if it meant stomping over Pinky’s dreams for a while. Besides, Pinky’s only need was to help him, right? That dumb little mouse, bless his heart, didn’t have enough drive, enough passion to have any other purpose in life

Right?

…

Life had never been not funny, but lately it had been funnier than ever! 

It all started with a weird looking mouse. Or was it a hamster? That particular night had been especially fun, fun, silly, willy (narf!) because the plan involved electricity and it always sent fun tingles down his body! Really, why Brain thought it was painful was a mystery. Didn’t he turn his body to rubber whenever electricity hit? Hadn’t he thought of that? Oh well, maybe he liked the pain. To each his own. 

Where was he? Oh yeah, the hamster. Their act was finished, and everyone was clapping at them and he felt that fuzzy whirly warm feeling within him, and wondered if his heart would leave his chest and sing a duet with him, and maybe they could both convince Brain to sing along… Oh, hearing people’s laughter was the bestest feeling ever! Even better than eating cheese inside a cheese room, better than raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens! Maybe the only thing better than that was hearing Brain laugh. Oh, but imagine making people AND Brain laugh, all of it inside a cheese room! And he’d have to stop imagining, because he was getting all giggly, the show was over, and it was time to bow in front of the audience. 

The audience threw stuff at them but apparently that was considered a compliment. They threw nice things, too: mostly newspaper roses that Brain made him clean up. He always told Pinky to throw them in the trash can, but he kept them in a vase, as a reminder of the people he had made happier. 

And so, Pinky cleaned for tonight, singing softly to himself about schnitzel with noodles and warm woolen mittens, dancing with a tiny broom, an orchestra faintly accompanying them. Meanwhile Brain went away to ponder on what he called “a magnificent mess” (and wasn’t it a good thing, to be magnificent? Poit!).

As Pinky finished his song, someone clapped, but it didn’t sound nice? How can a clap sound insincere? Did Goofy ever receive insincere claps? 

“Congratulations, Pinky, brilliant as always” A really posh voice told him, and he looked up. It was a hamster! (or was it a mouse?) the color of honey, which would be nice, if the hamster didn’t have that mock smile on his face. 

Pinky didn’t like it.

“You have talent. Do you know what that means?” He continued, grabbing one of Pinky’s beloved newspaper roses from the ground and throwing it to the trash can below the counter on which both rodents were standing.

“That Goofy must practice his insincere _ah-hyuck’_ s?” 

The hamster growled in response. _Rude_.

“No, you nincom… I mean, no, my friend. It means it’s time for you to exploit it!” He patted Pinky’s chest which felt off for some reason. In response, Pinky chuckled awkwardly and stepped back a little bit. “Don’t you find it _odd_ , that while you have these amazing displays of power and comedic timing, your good friend The Brain has done nothing to help you soar? Why, if he really cared about you, you’d already be famous! Because that’s what you want, don’t you?”

“I don’t want to display my timings in a family show,” Pinky mumbled, and the hamster patted his back a little too hard, without giving him the chance to psych up to not feel pain. As a result, it _hurt_. Pinky grimaced. He rarely ever felt pain unrelated to Dip. 

“Ha! That 's funny.” The hamster laughed an even more insincere laugh “See? Comedic timing at its best. Why, my dear friend, you don’t deserve to perform here, in a seedy place so far from Hollywood. You deserve a brighter spotlight than the white lights of this lab. You deserve… this” And with a dramatic flourish, he handed Pinky a newspaper clip.

“A…. piece of paper! Thank you! That’s exactly what I wanted, narf!” Pinky hugged the paper and the hamster facepalmed. 

“Read the paper, you--!” He inhaled “--buddy.” 

“Auditions open for Steven Spielberg’s new variety show, toon mice wanted” Pinky read and gasped “I’m a toon mice!”

“Evidently. Do you know where I found this? In your special friend’s trash can. It’s almost as if…” He stopped, and his face contorted in concern, or a very studied version of it “Oh no, he wouldn’t.”

“Brain? He wouldn't what?”

“No, that’s too mean, even for him!” The hamster gestured dramatically, his hand over his forehead. 

“What are you talking about?” Pinky realized he had been holding the broom too hard, and loosened his grip, mentally apologizing to poor Mr. Broom. 

“As if your partner didn’t want you to achieve your own dreams!” The hamster finished, relishing in Pinky’s heartbroken gasp, and the sound the broom made when it fell. 

“Brain wouldn’t do that! He’s kind and a smartie and...”

“Well, Pinky, think about it! If you went to that audition, you’d definitely get the role! And you’d become a star! Oh, but perhaps your good old friend doesn’t want you to abandon him! Maybe that’s why he kept it a secret” 

“But I would never abandon him! I couldn’t even act if he wasn’t around! I’d feel all… Garfunkel-y”

“Then tell him that! The auditions are in two weeks! You still have time to prepare!” The hamster shoved the paper in Pinky’s chest, “Go, Pinky! Hurry!”

Pinky threw a quick glance at the newspaper clip and then he looked up. The hamster was gone, and with him, the impulse to run and tell Brain. His feet felt glued to the ground.

“Come on feet, we gotta tell Brain….” He begged, but his feet didn’t obey, his heart was no longer singing, it just beated really loud, as if it was complaining, as if it had fallen to his stomach; and his head was a mess. 

Maybe there was a good reason why Brain hadn’t told him. He refused to believe Brain would hide such things from him, unless there was a reason he was probably too dumb to understand. Brain was smarter. And then he wondered, what if that was a bad thing? Was it bad to perform in front of people, to make them laugh? How could something that made him so happy could be bad? Maybe that’s why Brain hated so much when people laughed at their daily plots? Had Pinky been wrong this whole time? Was it bad to want this so much? 

But he wanted this, and he never wanted anything more than a food pellet and the occasional cheese. Why, he wanted it as much as Brain wanted the world! The immensity of his yearning scared him; making people laugh felt like food pellets for his soul, and he didn't want his soul to starve, but he also wanted to stay on Brain’s good side (the left one, his right side is a little less chubby)

Oh, poit, Pinky mumbled, leaning into Mr. Broom for support. What was he going to do? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens....
> 
> Snowball wasn't even supposed to come up in this story, I was just letting the story guide me and suddenly... Snowball. I'm not gonna lie, I love writing that condescending remorseless little bastard so, so much; the best way to explore one's inner darkness is hand in hand with an evil hamster.
> 
> There's a lot of ship-tease in this fic. I am toying with the idea that no one really knows the true nature of the relationship between Pinky and The Brain, which would be good and all (it's none of their business, anyway), but not even the rodents involved know. So Pinky would say they're probably in a relationship and Brain would say they're probably not. This is my take, however, and you can take it anyway you want, death of the author and all that jazz.
> 
> Last but not least, there's obvious references here to La La Land, again with the title, Pinky is singing Sound Of Music's My Favorite Things, Roger Ebert was a famous film critic, sialorrhea is the fancy term for "drooling" in this case Brain drooling in his sleep, and Abbott & Costello are a comic duo, a smart one and a dumb one, that I think may have inspired the dynamic of our favorite lab-bred mice
> 
> Thanks for reading


	3. Doo dah, Doo dah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on uploading so soon, but I don't want the reboot to overshadow this... too much because I wrote a goddamn musical number for this chapter and you better appreciate it.
> 
> (The bold, italic text indicates singing)

He spent that night hugging the newspaper clip, more conflicted than ever. He didn’t even know if the butterflies on his stomach were the good kind or the bad kind. His porpoise, in a kiddie pool somewhere in his hammerspace, was to make Brain happy. Brain fed him, named him and let him out of his cage, and for him, Brain deserved the world because of that. At some point in his life he decided he’d follow the chubby mouse forever, helping him with the world, since that was the key to unlock Brain’s smile. But on the other hand, he wanted to make other people happy too! Wasn’t there a way to make both Brain and the rest of the world happy? 

The next morning, by the time he collapsed on their kitchen table, Brain had been up for a while, reading the blueprints for tonight and drinking coffee stolen from the scientists.

“You overslept” Brain commented without even looking up. There was no verbal response, Pinky slammed the newspaper clip on the table, startling the other mouse and making him spill the coffee over the blueprints

“Pinky! You--!” Brain shouted

“I have space for two porpoises, I promise I’ll feed them!” Pinky cried, and before his partner could even try to make sense of the words, he continued “I want this, Brain! NARF!” He started to cry as Brain read the newspaper

“You want to participate in the Hamilton Square Baptist Church protests? Pinky are you…?” He blushed.

“Flip it over!” Pinky demanded exasperatedly.

“ _Auditions open for Steven Spielberg’s new variety show, toon mice wanted_ ” Brain read and sighed “Snowball, that sleazy--”

“The hamster said I have talent! _Puhleeze_ Brain let me try it! I promise I will never abandon you!” He grabbed the other mouse’s paws and pulled them to his chest, wrinkling the paper between them. Brain could feel Pinky’s heart, as erratic as his friend. “I just wanna give it a little try!”

Brain growled, getting away from Pinky's grasp. Of course that hamster would do anything in his power to create a rift between them, exploit Pinky’s talent and blackmail Brain into giving him half the world.

But really? Pinky, a star? Ok, maybe his hammerspace trick was amusing, yes, and ok, he survived things lab-bred mice couldn’t…. And agreed, his singing voice was extraordinary, he wasn't bad looking, his _sissones_ were always perfectly executed… but really, Hollywood? That place was gonna chew Pinky up and spit him out.

Call him cynical, but he doubted Pinky could survive the Hollywood machine. 

But of course, if he denied Pinky the chance, he’d be the bad guy in Pinky’s eyes. And he’d go to Snowball, who’d, again, exploit him, and take the whole world. 

So he chose the lesser of two evils, give Pinky what he wanted, deal with Snowball later

“Fine. You win. But I must warn you, Pinky: It won’t be easy. The people in showbiz aren’t as easily entertained as the rodents of this lab, who are so bored out of their minds, even a rock could make them laugh.”

Pinky celebrated jumping over the table and sweeping him into a hug. He pushed away, groaning when he fell on his back (the fourth time this month!).

“And you can’t enter an audition of that magnitude without an agent.” Brain puffed, trying to rub his aching back, but his arms were too short.

“Like James Bond? Poit” Pinky asked, and before he even blinked, Pinky was behind him, rubbing Brain’s back. 

(Did he teleport? Only toons like Bugs Bunny could teleport. Maybe he was just fast) 

Just for now, he let it pass. His back was aching a bit, after all, and he needed it to work just fine for his plans. Also, Pinky was really good with massages. 

“Not that kind of agent, though Sean Connery also has one. No, Pinky, an agent is someone who represents an actor or a toon.” 

“Do you know someone, Brain?” Pinky asked softly, his chin resting on top of Brain's head, rubbing his shoulders, and Brain took Snowball’s card out of his pocket.

“Unfortunately, my dear Pinky... I do.”

...

The show was over. Uhm, tonight’s plan, that is. The fact that even toon animals from other wards of the lab had come to see them was irrelevant; his plans failed with and without an audience.

Pinky sat in his dressing room, a recent gift from one fan (it was an old Barbie boudoir, rescued from the trash can. It's paint was fading, the mirror was cracked, some of the tiny light bulbs around the mirror were broken; the whole thing had seen better days. Regardless, Pinky loved it) and sniffed his lovely newspaper roses, as if they were real. That absurd little creature... 

He, on the other side, was still sore because of tonight’s plan. A machine fell over him when he ignored Pinky’s comments about the pretty pigeon perched over his hypno-ray, making it too heavy for its stands. To make matters worse, in the morning they erased his claws with Dip, and Pinky had to help him paint them back. His fingers still stung. 

And the worst part: he had to talk to Snowball.

He waited until Pinky was asleep, to slip out of the sponge bed they shared (a gift from his mother. When he remarked she could _at least_ give them two sponge beds she laughed it off) and sneaked out to the phone. 

“Oh, my fair Brainy, so many lonesome nights waiting by the phone” The hamster’s sarcastic voice came from the other side, and he repressed a disgusted growl. Oh, how he hated that hamster.

“Yeah, cut it out. Listen, Snowball, I… uhm” He trailed off, wondering if there was a way for him to become an agent, just to avoid the horrible feat of asking someone else for help. But it was too late already, and the hamster was laughing.

“Have you reconsidered my offer? Let me guess: Your little pet threw a tantrum, and since you can’t say no to him, now he needs an agent” Snowball taunted him

“Yes, Snowball, _you_ succeeded in getting those ludicrous ideas of stardom inside Pinky’s empty head. We need your help to get him the audition. Like--like you said, if he gets the role we can split his profits 50/50” 

The hamster hummed for a moment, then spoke

“You mean, _when_ he gets the job. I already told you, I got him covered. But unfortunately for you that offer just expired. I want 70/30, AND the state of Ohio.”

_You filthy little piece of…_

“W--What?! Then the deal is off! Forget it, Snowball! And what do you want Ohio for?!”

“Personal reasons. Anyway, have fun trying to take over the world with no funds, no luck, and a depressed _could-have-been_ with no agent… Ta-ta!”

“Wait!” Brain shouted, and someone inside a cage shut him up, it was past midnight “F-fine!" he whispered "You can have Ohio. But I want 50/50”

“I’m risking my life blackmailing a casting director to get the role of a lifetime for your boyfriend, and you only think about the money? And they say _I_ am the selfish one.”

“He’s not…” Brain exhaled “60/40?” He asked, his fingers anxiously intertwined with the phone cable. 

The silence on the other side of the line was nerve-wracking. He imagined the scummy little hamster covering the microphone and counting to ten just to get on his nerves

“It’s always a pleasure making business with you” Snowball finally said in a cheery tone “You have one week to train him.”

“What? You didn’t say anything about training!”

“Well, Brain, we can’t leave our fate in someone else’s hands, now can we? your friend has raw talent, sure, but even the most beautiful diamond in the rough must be polished before being offered to the Queen. He must learn about comedic theory, cartoon etiquette, dynamite, wisecracking, cartoon logic, toon physics, black holes 101, physical comedy, anvils… are you writing this down?”

Brain jumped, and grabbed a notebook and a pencil from his hammerspace, scribbling furiously.

“Singing lessons, Mickey Mousing, defying gravity, dancing, classical music theory, and pie throwing. And that’s just the basics.”

“How am I gonna teach him that? I don’t know anything about toon theory! I’m a lab-bred toon mouse bent on world domination, why would I--?”

“Use your brain, Brain” Snowball spat out and hung up the phone.

…

Pinky had seen enough Disney movies to know that the right way to wake someone up is with a kiss, so, just in case, he usually slept with a newspaper rose on his paws (which was always a little wrinkled the next morning, Disney doesn’t prepare you for that). 

Unfortunately, Brain didn’t have that sense of decency. He threw a thimble of water at him, turning the rose into mush. 

“Wake up!” Brain shouted, and Pinky jumped out of bed

“Fire?? Fire!! Puck! Puck! I mean… Help! Help!” Brain pulled his muzzle down and covered his mouth.

“Shut up, you idiot, you’re gonna wake the whole lab!”

“Help!” Pinky shouted, though it was muffled and it came out more like a “ _Fffp_ ”. Brain thought of calming him by patting his head, but he decided to slap his cage mate instead. It worked. 

“Get ready, Pinky, we’re going to the library” He said

“Egad, Brain, brilliant! I always wanted to go there! But wait, no, no…. Isn’t that in New York?”

“That’s _liberty_ , you moron.” Brain said but didn't bother to explain any further. “Come, Pinky, your training begins now.”

“My… training? Zort.” Pinky wiped the rest of his mushy flower off his hand.

Brain finally deigned to look back at his confused and wet cagemate. 

“Do you wanna go to that audition, or what?" He lifted a finger to his partner whose mouth was opening wide, gasping "Nuh-uh-uh! Don’t scream. And don’t hug me. Otherwise, we’re staying here, and I shall have to hurt you.” 

Pinky covered his mouth to muffle an excited scream, and he nodded energetically, his sky blue eyes gleaming in the dark.

...

The whole thing played very differently in Brain’s… brain. Breaking into the library had been the easy part, the hardest part was… everything that followed

“Come on Pinky, we’ve gone through this a thousand times! What’s the fifth rule of cartoon physics?” He was tired. Pinky was tired, using a toon physics book as a bed. So undignified. 

“I don’t know, _zort_?” Pinky answered in an unusual tiresome mood

“Something about…gravity? No? Come on: All principles of gravity are negated by...?” Brain tried to nudge him into the correct answer but Pinky stood up, stretching his arms in a swift cat-like motion, and walked away. 

“Boredom?” Pinky yawned, stepping over the pages of the books they were reading as if they were cheap rugs. They were so tiny, though, that his footprints weren’t that noticeable.

“No! Fear! Pinky, we’re doing this for you! Why are you making this so difficult for us?!” Brain whined, exasperated

“Why are you making it so boring?” Pinky clapped back, nonchalantly, and Brain felt steam coming out of his head.

“Well, if you’re gonna be this stubborn, then I--” Brain began, and then an idea came to him. He tried to dismiss it (too humiliating), but it persisted, until he finally gave up. “I’ll explain this in a way even _you_ can understand”

He cleared his throat, feeling anxiety creep in. At least Pinky’s attention had been piqued, he sat up straight and stared at him with big curious eyes.

 **_“Cartoon physics, hear this song, doo-dah doo-dah”_ ** Brain sang through his teeth to the tune of _Camptown Races_ , his brow furrowed and his cheeks burning. He tried to ignore Pinky’s amused gasp, as he improvised the rest of the verse:

 **_“Cartoon physics, sing along to learn anything”_ **

He quickly glanced towards Pinky, whose expression was instantly going from shock to a huge, stupid, wonderful smile. Brain grimaced at him, and stared at all of the open books at their feet, before continuing:

 **_“Mickey Mousing, explosions, 4th wall breaking,”_ ** He unenthusiastically did a little dance, doing jazz hands, still the same deadpan expression in his face **_“Wanna move the plot along? Try…”_ ** He stopped, out of ideas. “Uh…” 

**_“Try wisecracking”_ ** Pinky sang along, and a vaudeville-esque version of Camptown Races started playing in the background, which yes, maybe made Brain sing with slightly more gusto.

 **_“Comedic theory,”_ ** Brain sang **_“cartoon etiquette,”_ ** and Pinky made an elegant bow to an invisible audience

 **_“Deal with villains, throwing an anvil to their heads!”_ ** Pinky pulled Brain into a dip, and out of the way of a falling anvil. 

A spotlight shone over them out of nowhere, and Brain found himself wearing clothes and… tap dancing? He didn’t know how to tap dance! And yet there he was, his movements both in sync with and complementing Pinky’s, dancing by his side. 

The most impressive of all, it felt _good_ , it made sense! A part of him, dormant until now, had awakened, and it wanted _more_. He could feel his smile widening, without being able to prevent it. He was.... happy!

 ** _“Toon logics and physics for decon-structing”_** Both mice started floating, Pinky swimming on air, gracefully as usual, and Brain having slightly more trouble to keep balance: “Nyaah! **_Real world’s laws of gravity and dimension”_**

 **_“Dynamite dynamics, and hypno-tism”_ **Brain wiggled his fingers, and both mice landed softly over the books.

 ** _“Throw a pie at them and you’ll be the number one”_** Sang Pinky. Both took a pie out of their hammerspace (how did that get in there?) and threw it at each other, simultaneously getting pie on their faces.

 **_“Teletransportation, illusion”_ ** Pinky leaped inside an open book, jumping from page to page, before Brain held his hand to take him out of the books, into a quick paced waltz.

 **_“Singing and dancing and musical theory makes you a…_ ** **”**

 ** _“Cartoon!”_** Both mice sang enthusiastically, sliding on their knees towards the invisible audience. 

“Naaarf!” Pinky sighed breathlessly, a huge grin on his face, his blue eyes gleaming. Brain offered him a rare genuine smile, catching his breath, and the mice relished on the moment briefly, chuckling awkwardly and endearingly, smiles on their faces.

“SHHHHH!!!” A librarian came from nowhere, spoiling the magic before leaving in a huff. Brain looked around. At some point they had changed their clothes to a vaudeville outfit, in yellow and orange stripes, hat and cane included. He didn’t remember that. The music was still on, playing faintly in the background. 

Pinky and the Brain snickered for a moment, mocking the librarian.

“Pinky” Brain giggled “Stop the music! She’s gonna kick us out!”

“But Brain!” Pinky giggled back “I’m not the one playing it!”

Brain froze and the music stopped. His elated grin changed to a bashful frown, looking down at their vaudeville outfits vanishing in the familiar wisp of blue smoke. He stared at Pinky, awestruck, and pulled him by his shoulders

“What was that?!”

“Well, we were singing about cartoon physics! It was fun, Brain, narf! You started pulling stuff out of your hammerspace, we bounced from book to book, we changed our clothes, we danced, we floated in the air...”

“But… I’m lab-bred, I’m not supposed to have toon physics! I was not drawn that way! Look, my hammerspace only has tangible objects!” To demonstrate, he pulled out of his hammerspace… a map, a globe, a golden statue of himself, a crown, and a bouquet of real roses. 

Both mice stared at the objects in shock until they vanished. 

“I don’t think that even matters, Brain” Pinky commented softly, wringing his tail in his hands. “Maybe performers aren’t even born, they’re…”

“Made?” Brain completed, and pink eyes met blue, mirroring the exact same confusion.

“Poit! Mhm!” 

“That’s preposterous! This is absurd! This is…” enjoyable, he wanted to say, but no, he wasn’t supposed to say that. The only joy in his life should come from world domination. Why, the act of performing in front of an audience was beneath him, such buffoonery was destined to simple creatures like Pinky; not respectable future dictators like him!

Then why did he feel so.... elated?

“That’s enough Pinky, let’s go home. And,” He pulled the other mouse to his level “if you dare to bring this up ever again, I shall have to hurt you” Pinky nodded as much as he could

He never wanted to defy real physics again. He was a scientist, not a performer, he told himself. World leaders must have dignity, he told himself. That pure, concentrated joy he felt had been a mistake, a simple endorphin spike. 

Still, that night, as they prepared for their world domination plan, Brain hummed all the way.

And Pinky, who was a mouse of his word, pretended that he didn’t hear the faint orchestra accompanying him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I worked really hard on that song, which is based on several things:
> 
> The rules of cartoon physics, which is a document, very technical, that discusses... Toon physics, but, like, for smart people, (not me). I'm sure Brain would love it.  
> The Wiki page of powers (toon-based powers specifically)  
> Some subjects taught at Acme Looniversity from Tiny Toon Adventures  
> The song Brainstem, obviously  
> That episode on Pinky Elmyra and The Brain where Brain teaches that idiotic child the planets with a song. Yes, I had to rewatch it. Yes, the song fails to leave my head. No, I don't wanna talk about it. 
> 
> I don't know why Snowball wants Ohio, but there's a short film in the Netflix series Love Death and Robots where Maurice LaMarche (the Brain) narrates about that time yogurt took over Ohio. And then the world. 
> 
> The Hamilton Square Baptist Church protests were protests by the LGBTQ+ community. This is an anachronism because said protests happened in 1993, the year Animaniacs premiered, and this chapter in particular is happening at least one year before the series premieres, but I found it interesting so I kept it that way.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the reboot! I'll watch it very soon, I hope. Stay tuned!


	4. The Very Model of a Cartoon Individual (Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of, a huge thanks to my beta reader @plutonis on tumblr, who's helped me so much I even included her in this story  
> Second of all, I've been reading and gushing over your comments, but I never know what to say!! So thanks a lot for reading （／u＼）

This was unacceptable. Terribly incorrect.

It felt good, though.

Ever since Pinky’s toon training, Brain had “secretly” decided to try a little bit of those toon physics, just a fun little challenge for himself. He’d wait after Pinky was asleep to slip out of their sponge bed, sit in the windowsill, and practice. 

The “secret” lasted a whooping two days. The second night, he tried to take that golden statue of himself out of his hammerspace, but nothing of the kind came out, only the real, tangible things he kept inside: a log, notebooks, pencils, clips… And he kept trying, without realizing he was grunting in frustration a little bit too loud, and his annoyed grumbles muted the faint sound of footsteps until Pinky called him:

“What are you doing? Zort!”

“Pinky! I-- Nothing!” Brain stuttered, shoving the stuff back to his hammerspace as fast as he could, knowing very well he was blushing. He turned around slowly, hunched with guilt, to see his friend staring from afar, with sleepy eyes, droopy ears, pink slippers and a purple robe. But Pinky wasn’t stupid (err... sometimes), and soon his face lit up and his ears perked up with understanding.

_Drat._

“Your mind must be a crisps bag, Brain! All filled with salty and vinegary air!” Pinky exclaimed, hopping excitedly.

“Whatever your impoverished lexicon is trying to say, I do not get it, Pinky”

“That is, you gotta empty your brain, Brain!.... brain. Narf.”

“Unlike you, I will not reduce my mental capacities to such an extent! Besides, I wasn’t doing whatever you think I was doing. I was just… taking in the night. And pondering. YES!” Brain said hastily. His cagemate ignored the insult, scratching between Brain’s ears and sitting by his side, with that trademark Pinky smile of equal parts condescension and adoration. “Argh! Of course it’s easy for you to keep your mind empty, you’re a nincompoop!” Brain grumbled.

“Sometimes it helps me to think of a ticking duck! Tic, Toc, quack, quack, Zort!” he giggled, swaying merrily with each tictoc.

“That’s a clock, Pinky” Brain retorted, but followed mentally. Tic. Toc. Tic. Toc… And his hand, almost on its own accord, moved towards his back.

When he least expected it, the golden statue felt heavy on his hand, falling from his hammerspace.

“Look, I did it!” Both mice gawked at the statue with amused grins (and a “Naaaaarf!”), until it vanished, and Brain’s amazement was quickly replaced with the dull reality “I mean… Cease, Pinky! I do not wish to engage in such foolish behavior, like some sort of cheap magician! You have nothing to teach me! I do not wish to know about pies, or anvils, or…”

“...Making pain feel like tickles?” Pinky completed wiggling his fingers and managing to tickle his tummy a little bit. 

“Precisely!” He slapped Pinky’s hands away before he, _Heaven forbid,_ let out a giggle “I do not wish to… can you teach me?”

And so it began. While Pinky practiced his physical comedy, he began to study Shakespeare. At night, after the plan, they would watch one Monty Python movie for Pinky, and one from Vincent Price or Orson Welles for Brain. 

It was cultural enrichment, Brain told himself, he needed to understand human culture if he wanted to rule them; and he had to admit it was terribly practical to control his gravity a little bit. He understood now why Pinky didn’t mind him bopping his head, if he emptied his mind enough, pain tickled. 

He even started saying sarcastic quips at Pinky during their plans, smart little jokes, and always felt shocked when people laughed _with_ him, not _at_ him.

That night they failed, as usual, but for some reason this time it didn’t feel like a failure. They had been exchanging jokes back and forth, improvising (“Pinky! Are you pondering what I’m pondering?” “I think so, Brain, but my name backwards is Yknip!”), even interacting with their enthralled audience. The excitement of plotting to take over the world, mixed with the fluttery feeling in his stomach whenever he was onstage… it was all too exhilarating to bear. He felt, for lack of a better word, like he’d “explode” with joyfulness. 

And when the “show” was over, Pinky held his hand and pulled him in a bow, and it all felt so natural, so _good_.

By the end of the show, Brain picked up the metal scraps of their failed plan as usual, while Pinky signed anything the other mice had for him, took their newspaper roses and took pictures with them. This time, however, one tiny mouse girl, her fur brown, wearing purple glasses almost larger than herself, approached him instead, her mother some steps behind.

“Mr. Brain?” She asked in a shy little voice. He turned to face her, and she quickly shoved a drawing to his chest.

“Uhm… Pinky is over there," Brain muttered awkwardly. No one ever approached him, Pinky was the star of their improvised show ( _err_ , their intricate plan to take over the world).

“No, Mr. Brain, this is for you” The girl insisted, and he looked at the drawing. An obviously infant hand, with no motor skills fully developed, sketched in crayons what seemed to be… a globe? And a tiny white mouse wearing a crown on top of it.

He looked at the drawing, and then at the girl, back and forth, until he felt dizzy.

“What? You did this for me?” He managed in a tiny voice. The girl giggled and nodded proudly. “Why?”

“Oh, Kelly thinks you’re hilarious, sir! Every night she begs me to bring her here and see the chubby head mouse show” Her mother chimed in. Brain felt a hand over his shoulder and looked up to see Pinky by his side, smiling gently at them.

“Say _thank you,_ Brain, narf” Pinky intervened softly

“Thank you, Brain, narf” Brain mumbled, dumbstruck. The girl giggled and left with a spring in her step. 

He smiled until he noticed he was smiling, and even worse, he noticed Pinky staring at him adoringly.

“Pinky, wipe that condescending little grin from your face immediately!” He snapped, but instead of being startled, Pinky giggled, as if he was the most harmless, tiny, _adorable_ rodent in the world. “Whatever you're thinking, if you’re thinking at all, you’re mistaken, you hear me?! Mis--”

“You like performing, don’t you, Brain?” Pinky asked with a complicit grin

“NO, I DON'T!” Brain shouted, “This is preposterous! Don’t you ever imply that again, Pinky! I am… A respectable mouse of science, a future dictator, not a buffoon!”

“And you are… a very blushy mouse too!” Pinky interjected, and had the _audacity_ to pinch his cheek, with that adoring little smile “Narf.” 

By the time Brain had taken his mallet out of his hammerspace, Pinky was already running on the roof, shouting: “Brainy is a per-for-mer!” in a singsong voice. He tried to follow, but Pinky controlled gravity way better than he could.

That idiotic lanky mouse was fast, and more powerful each day.

And worst of all, he was right. 

...

The day of the audition grew closer, and the two mice didn’t relent. Pinky was struggling a little bit with his wisecracking, but his illusions were improving quickly. He used his newfound ability to write the word “narf” on the starry sky. It lasted less than a minute, and he passed out immediately due to the effort it took, but their rodent audience went _wild_ that night. They’d never been that popular in the lab before. 

It was a shame, Brain thought, that they could only use their toon physics when it was funny or in dangerous situations; imagine applying Pinky’s illusions to take over the world! But a mouse could only dream. And Pinky was very adamant on using his newfound powers exclusively onstage. 

The night before the audition, Brain finally addressed their audience

“My fellow toon rodents." He noticed the mouse girl waving at him from the front row, a huge smile on her baby face “Uhm, hi, Kelly. It fills me with great joy to announce to you, our loyal audience, that today is our last show.”

There was a shocked, collective gasp, some even booed at them.

“Let me finish, please.” Brain said, lifting his hands in an attempt to calm their audience. “Tomorrow we’re heading to the Warner Bros. Studio lot, to try Pinky’s luck in an audition for Steven Spielberg’s new variety show!” He pointed at Pinky, who blushed and looked down, with the tiniest of smiles. 

Everyone clapped, there were some “ooh”s and “aaahh”s, a few rodents threw more newspaper roses at Pinky, who shuffled his feet bashfully, but a sweet female voice interfered:

“What about you, Mr. Brain?” the little mousy girl asked, shaking her hand up in the air, as if she were in school. 

“Me? Well, I’ll stay here, trying to take over the world! You’re free to join me, if you please.” 

To his bewilderment, there were some angry “what?!”s from the audience, more than he anticipated (he wasn’t _that_ popular, was he?) but the loudest, angriest “WHAT?!” came from...

Pinky. 

“What do you mean you’re not coming with me?!” Pinky snapped at him, and Brain was taken aback.

“Pinky, let’s discuss this offstage…”

“B-but we’re a duo! We’re Pinky and the Brain, not just Pinky! We’re like Abbott and Costello, or Sonny and Cher, or Kermit and Miss Piggy!” Brain wondered who he was in that last example “I’m not funny without you!” 

“Yes you are!” shouted someone in the crowd 

“SHUT THE POIT UP!” Pinky yelled back, and stared at Brain with those big ocean eyes that were starting to get watery “Brain, I need you! I don’t wanna perform without you!”

Brain chuckled awkwardly, glancing at their audience. 

“Pinky, can it.” He said through gritted teeth, “You’re making a fool of yourself more than usual. We’ve talked about this: I’m not a performer, I’m a scientist, _and_ your manager” 

“But you can be two and three, you can be many things!”

“Yeah Brain, listen to him!” a voice shouted from the audience.

“Brian, honey, you’re embarrassing yourself in front of everyone!” he heard his mother’s voice and he growled.

“Alright, the show is over! EVERYONE, OUT!” Brain shouted at the audience, and they left slowly with the soft rumble of feet dragging on the floor and some quiet, disappointed whispers. Once everyone was gone, he finally gave his undivided attention to Pinky, who was sobbing on the floor. 

Brain struggled to find something to say, something to do, and he settled for clearing his throat to get his attention.

“You’re being irrational, Pinky. You’ll go to the audition tomorrow, or I shall have to hurt you!” That, obviously, didn’t help at all. After a minute of silence, he awkwardly offered a hesitant: “I think you’ll do a great job?” 

Pinky sniffed, his arms covering his head.

“Not without you” Was his muffled, broken response.

“Of course you will! And even if you don’t, Snowball blackm--” Oh drat. He covered his mouth, but Pinky lifted his head, going gradually from sadness to suspicion. 

“Snowball what?”

“Nothing!” Brain offered him a shiny fake smile.

“Snowball did what, Brain?” Pinky demanded, sitting on the floor, a pinch of danger tinted his unusually severe tone. Brain sighed in defeat.

“We’re blackmailing one of the casting directors. You’ll get the role, the system is rigged in our favor.” Pinky covered his mouth, his eyes tearing up immediately, and Brain almost wished he had yelled at him, or he had used his angry tone. Anything but that dismayed look, those weepy ocean eyes.

“B-but that’s good!” Brain stuttered “You get the role, Snowball and I split your profits half and half, and we use the funds to take over the world! Excepting the UK and Ohio, for some reason.” Brain chuckled, nudging his friend, but Pinky didn’t laugh along,

”Come on, Pinky, don’t cry” He wanted it to come out as an order, it was more of a plea. He even patted his friend on the back “Everyone gets their dream” he repeated Snowball’s words, though they felt bitter on his tongue.

“But Brain! That 's cheating! We’re not cheetahs, we’re mice! If we were cheetahs we’d have to eat your family and I don’t wanna do that!” Pinky cried “What about all of the other mice? That’s not fair for them! I don’t want to steal someone else’s opportunity, I want my own! Poit!”

“It’s not cheating _per se_ , Pinky, we’re just…" He tried another route “When we take over the world, we’ll make it up to them. This is solely to ensure you get the role!”

“I will never get the role as a cheetah, Brain, they’re looking for _mice_! And I don’t want it! It’s dirty and no amount of Tide will make it clean again!”

After much mental debating, Brain decided to make his next move: Rub Pinky’s back in a friendly, soothing way. He was about to, when Pinky moved away from his grasp, subtly enough to not make it feel passive aggressive, but still hurtful somehow.

“You don’t think I can get the role?” Pinky asked, and there was _something_ in his voice that made it difficult to control his impulses to do anything to stop Pinky from using that sharp tone ever again: a hug, or a kiss, anything he’d regret later. But again, Brain refused to rely on actions and he settled for words: 

“No, I do! I just think that--” 

“That I need an evil hamster to blackmail people so I can perform?” Pinky interrupted him, in teary outrage, his voice growing louder “In that case you should have told me, we could have sent them white mail! We have white envelopes, Brain! NARF!” 

Heavens, he was an idiot. A heartbroken idiot

“Pinky, _please_ ” Brain skipped the “pretending to give orders” bit, and went straight to begging, but the other mouse refused to listen, running away in tears (and tripping with his own tail, falling on his nose with a “narf!”. And standing up, crying and running again)

...

Pinky didn’t return to their cage the whole night, and the place was eerily quiet without him. Brain tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut and tried to read, but discovered he missed those obnoxious sounds his cagemate made. He then tried to sleep, but it was odd to have that much space in the sponge bed. More comfortable, yes, but… odd regardless: It felt cold and uninviting. Pinky’s presence was like an itchy, annoying wool sweater that he… kinda liked to wear. 

He didn’t return next morning either, and that’s when Brain began to worry severely. What if he got lost? That had happened before. What if he mistakenly ate cheese laced with too much Dip and now he’s dead? What if he tried a complex cartoon trick and he passed out on the window sill and he fell down? What if a predatory bird took him? And other fatalist thoughts clouded his mind. Also, the audition was in two hours, and they needed at least one to make it on time, considering Burbank’s traffic.

That dumb mouse wasn’t dead. He wasn’t lost. He wasn’t even that far away from the cage.

He was hiding inside the TV.

Brain climbed inside the big metal box, to find his friend curled into a ball by the motherboard. 

“There you are! If we were playing hide and seek, you would have won this time” He joked, in awkward camaraderie; both knew very well Brain would rather die than play hide and seek with Pinky.

Pinky scoffed, or maybe it was a sigh and he was reading too much into it. There was only one way to figure it out. 

“Come, Pinky!” He said, in phony enthusiasm “It’s time to wake up! You don’t wanna miss your audition today!” After a brief moment of hesitation, he shook Pinky’s shoulder with as much care as he could.

Pinky didn’t react for a moment, and he thought he was still asleep, but then his hand took Brain’s, still over his shoulder… and brushed it away.

“I’m not going.” Pinky replied, desperately wanting to sound _insertive_ (wait, poit, _assertive_ ) and failing; his voice was still too broken and congested after a whole night crying. He at least tried very hard to repress a “poit” that came out anyways. 

“Pinky, don’t be absurd! My bribery and corrupt practices couldn’t offend you that much, could they?” Pinky’s silence was enough of an answer. “That is, are you still mad at me?”

“I don’t talk to big cats, Brain” Was Pinky’s answer.

Big cats…? Oh, cheaters. 

Brain chuckled anxiously, taking a clock from his hammerspace. They were running late. 

“This is your dream, Pinky! You’re not giving up your dream for a silly misunderstanding!”

“Well, I’m just a silly mouse, aren’t I” Pinky retorted dryly and wow, was that sarcasm? He didn’t know that was possible. 

An awkward moment of silence passed, broken by Pinky curling up into a ball and sobbing once again, his back against Brain. 

He felt like he had to apologize for something, but what for? He wasn’t the one blackmailing that casting director. If anything, Pinky should apologize to _him_ , for making him lose so much time in showbiz and his foolish flights of fancy, instead of coming up with new plots to take over the world. Yes! Pinky was being absurd! He was being childish! 

It didn’t matter whose fault it was, not really. Either way, his stomach was tied in uncomfortable knots, his heartbeat felt irregular, painful and too loud, and his migraine was getting worse by the second And still, the worse was that Pinky would lose his audition, and he didn’t even know how to make it better, how to make Pinky look back at him. He even began to consider the possibility of initiating a... hug? or was it a cuddle? Whatever Pinky did sometimes, when he held Brain against his chest (and against his will) in a way that was supposed to be comforting. Maybe he could do that, but this time with Pinky being held. That _was_ comforting, right? Otherwise his cagemate wouldn’t do it. But maybe it was too much, and in any case, how to even approach that possibility with words, how could he invite Pinky to do so in a way that wasn’t regrettable or utterly humiliating? He pondered... 

The phone rang, interrupting his pondering. And drat, it could only be....

“What do you mean he’s not going?!” Snowball growled on the other side of the line “Make him go! Put a mind control chip inside his empty head or something! You’re his partner, can’t you force him to do stuff he doesn’t want to?”

“You have a very skewed perception of relationships, Snowball," Brain muttered

“Listen, I’m not gonna put my world domination plans on hold just because your stupid little pet decided to feel Holier Than Thou! I got in trouble for those incriminating pictures, my head is on the line! The world is on the line! If he doesn’t get to that audition in five minutes, he will regret it, you hear me Brain?! He won’t _live_ to be famous!” 

Brain pinched the bridge of his nose, growling in frustration. This was hopeless! He had exactly ten seconds to find another performer toon mouse, or--

“Wait a minute, that’s it! Snowball, are you pondering what I'm pondering?"

“I don't think so, Brain, unless you’re also plotting your murder”

“No, Snowball, I can take his place!” On the other side, the hamster scoffed

“Oh, Brainy, what do you _know_ of performing?”

“Well, who do you think trained him? I can do the basics! Yes! You said so yourself, the system is rigged! I don’t need to be good, just decent! I can be decent!” 

There was silence, then Snowball answered:

“Hurry up, you’re running late” And he hung up.

Brain turned to look for the keys of the van, and found Pinky instead, with his purple robe, struggling to cross his arms. He did it in the second try.

“Pinky! How much did you hear?” 

The other mouse didn’t answer, frowning at him.

“Pinky, you have to understand! The world is on the line! If we lose this audition, our plans will fail, and we’re so close now! I promise we’ll make it up to all of the other mice”

“When?” Pinky demanded

“I don’t know, someday. Listen Pinky, I need to go soon, you know how Burbank’s traffic gets. Go and fetch me the keys to the van” He said.

While he dressed up in a hurry, without Pinky even bothering to help him with his jacket, Pinky served himself some tea and sat at their spool table with an apathetic look in his eyes.

“Pinky! I told you to help me find the car keys!” 

“They’re where you always put them, Brain. Narf," Pinky sighed bitingly, staring at his tea with tired, puffy eyes. Brain did his best to ignore the sinking feeling that Pinky's image gave him, even humming a little while taking the keys. No orchestra accompanied him. 

"So… How do I look?" He asked, turning around in his fancy jacket and shiny shoes. Pinky only graced him with a quick deadpan glance, before staring back at his tea, a single tear falling into the thimble, effectively ruining his Earl Gray with milk. Great, first he ruined Pinky and now he ruined breakfast! All of this before noon. What a record!

Only when he had jumped off the counter, he heard Pinky muttering quietly, his voice heavy with melancholy:

"Just like a movie star, Brain. Narf" 

...

By the time Brain arrived at the Warner lot, he had broken all traffic laws, escaped seven police patrols and was already wanted in three different districts; his mental list of “people he’d make up to when he took over the world” growing exponentially.

He sprinted his way towards the small entrance designed for rodents, where an elegant chinchilla with a bored look on her face sat on a registration table filing her nails. 

“Good morning! I’m here to audition for the mice’s role in Spielberg’s show,” Brain told her, breathlessly. The chinchilla inspected him for a second, frowned with disgust, and went back to file her nails. He realized he must look crappy, sweaty, and anxious, with his shirt untucked and his tie loosened, which all in all wasn’t a very Hollywood-esque look. But that was a superfluous matter, he was here, and she had to let him in, she had to--

“The auditions are over, sir” She said with a nasal, deadpan voice.

“What? No! Please, you have to let me in, I need that role to get enough funds to take over the world! Tell them Snowball sent me!”

“Listen _sir_ , the only way I could let you in is if Spielberg himself had sent you. And I know for a fact he didn’t, because he left…” she looked at her watch “fifteen minutes ago.”

Oh drat! Oh no. Oh wait!

“Wait! Maybe I can still catch up to him! In which direction did he--?”

“In his helicopter." She finished, and resumed filing her nails.

Brain’s ears drooped. _Drat._

“Do you happen to know if there will be more auditions?” He asked, defeated, and she shrugged.

“Check the trade paper” This time, she didn’t even look up.

When Brain returned to the lab, Pinky wasn’t in their cage, which probably meant he was still furious. He wasn’t in the kitchen stealing cheese, or by the windowsill, or inside the TV. Brain returned to the cage, looking for a note, a clue, _anything_ , when he heard the rustling of feet behind him. Hoping for the best, he turned around, but it wasn’t Pinky, it was… The whole rodent ward: their audience every night, Brain’s family among them; even a toon gorilla from another ward. They all stared at him with sorrow, making his stomach drop. 

“What--?” 

“Brian, my dear” His mother stepped forward “It’s Pinky. The scientists came and took him away.”

Oops, he forgot to mess with the lab’s schedules so the scientists wouldn’t experiment on them. That wouldn’t help Pinky’s grumpiness. He’d have to apologize for that later, maybe even find some fancy cheese to see if that improved his friend’s mood. He’d also have some paint prepared, just in case they erased a body part. 

But then, why was everyone there? And why were there so many female mice _crying_?

“It’s alright, mom, I still have some paint left from that time they erased my tail--” Brain started, but she cupped his hand between hers, her ears drooping: a warning sign. His mother wasn’t affectionate unless something was terribly wrong. 

“You don’t get it, sweetheart. They didn’t take him to the experiments pavilion,” she said, her voice cracking. Why was her voice cracking, what was going on? 

“They took him to the Dipping Room.”

And the world came crashing down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both titles are references to songs, by Animaniacs and Elton John, respectively. Elton's song is about realizing the Hollywood dream is just that, a dream.  
> What they watch at night are what their VAs based their voices on (Monty Python for Pinky, Welles and Vincent Price for Brain)  
> And yes, every mention of Pinky's "Ocean Eyes" references that Billie Eilish song  
> That bit of "You like performing, don't you?" is supposed to be identical to Spongebob asking Squidward if he likes Krabby Patties  
> Also, I'm basing all of Pinky's toon powers in the song Just Say Narf, where he's toonier than ever.  
> There's a reference here to one episode of the reboot. Find the reference and you get a virtual hug.  
> When Pinky says they're like "Abbott and Costello, or Sonny and Cher", that's a reference to Rita and Runt's theme song, which lives inside my head rent free.  
> Brain thinking of Pinky as an itchy wool sweater that he likes is what his VA says about his relationship.
> 
> The worst is yet to come >;) Thanks for reading and commenting and putting kudos on this thing! You're all so sweet!


	5. The Worst Foam Party of History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, as always to my good friend and beta reader, Plutonis, and to my new friend Deez who made A COMIC OUT OF THIS FIC OH MY GOD!!!!! and who suggested Pinky identified the most with Ariel. 
> 
> And also thank y'all for your kind words and for reading this, you are all the greatest readers ever!

Oh, the Dipping Room! Wasn’t that an awesome name? Like a room full of different dips to try with tortilla chips! Or a room with a refreshing pool to dip in, on these hot summer days! Or even a fun-fun spooky place, where your dip-est thoughts were exposed! Boo! Narf!

Any of those options was so cool! Too bad that’s not what the Dipping Room was. It was a bleak, wide space, so cold it made him shiver, even from within the hands of the human holding him.

White shiny tiles covered the place from the floor to the ceiling, and bright lights casting no shadows, giving the place an antiseptic, surreal look; so bright it hurt his eyes and he had to squint to see the rows of showers on the ceiling, which meant maybe it _was_ for foam parties! _Dipping_ in the foam! Zort! 

But wait, no, no. If this was a foam dipping party, where _was_ the foam? And why did the place smell like that? Like artificial lemon, bleach, and those cheeses that ate him back and made his insides ache horribly for days, until Brain would get tired of listening to his whines and make him drink diluted paint so he could color his insides that lovely shade of pink they’re supposed to be; always with a spoonful of sugar to make the medicine go down, even though Brain denied caring about his tongue savoring bitter ink.

And also, the humans handling him wore white plastic suits up to their heads, with a hat and veil, similar to a beekeeper suit, and that’s not ideal for foam parties. Pinky believed the less clothes involved in any situation, the better. Narf. 

The humans placed him on a white shiny table, and he wondered if he could ask them to lather him up with soap, because a table as shiny as that demanded to be used as a Slip 'n' Slide. But before he even opened his mouth, one of the humans spoke.

“Subject Three Omega Five Nine '' The human said in a dull voice, and it took awhile for Pinky to realize that was him.

“Oh! Poit! I think that’s me! But Subject _Somethingsomethingsomething_ is my maiden name. I go by Pinky now” he said, doing a little hand flip and batting his lashes coquettishly. That sometimes got him out of trouble. 

“Experiments on Acme Labs are not supposed to name themselves” The human replied sternly.

Ok, maybe what _really_ got him out of trouble was the wig. Zort.

“Do you know why you’re here?” The human inquired, and Pinky sighed, relieved.

“Well, yes. I assume this is a foam party? I would have loved to get an invitation, but I understand if you didn’t have the time. Party planning can be very difficult, isn’t it? Why, I once tried to plan a party for my best friend in the whole world, The Brain, and it had a cheese theme, so I hired one of those party planners to help me, and she didn’t do anything! And I told her: _Ms. Dryer Lint, I don’t pay you to stand still but I think I will from now on, because you’re tremendously good at it!_ Zort”

The humans stared at each other, then back at the mouse.

“The party was a success! I know that because Brain said _‘your grandiose sense of idiocy never fails to surprise me, Pinky’”_ He imitated a deeper, grumbly voice “And it _was_ a surprise party, so it worked! Isn’t he the sweetest mouse ever? I love him so much!” He clasped his hands together and twirled, but not a single human smiled back at him, which made Pinky chuckle awkwardly.

“Soooo…. where’s the foam?” he asked, more subdued.

“Read him the letter, Dave” One of the scientists told another, and he unfolded a paper:

_“To whom it may concern:_

_Greetings, I'm a lab-bred toon who's worried about the wellbeing of every other creature in this scientific facility. It has come to my attention that a defective, extremely powerful toon mouse who goes by the name of "Pinky" is trying to take over the world. He can use toon physics and has potent toon abilities, which makes me wonder if he's not a danger for himself and the rest of us; wouldn't be the first time a powerful toon uses toon physics to damage humans. Must I remind you of Judge Doom? Which is why, as much as it pains me, I'm afraid a sacrifice must be done in order to prevent any further damage._

_Signed, good citizen toon hamster, S.B.”_

“Oh no!” Pinky cried, “that could be anyone!”

The scientist who gave orders, who Pinky assumed was the leader, stepped forward.

“Do you know what happens to defective toons at Acme Labs?” He asked, and Pinky noticed the other human (Dave?) was putting on latex gloves and a gas mask, which rang some alarms on his head (they went like _whoo-whoo_ . Or maybe _meep-meep_?)

“Uhm…” Pinky pondered as hard as he could “Oh, I know! They are given enough resources to live a life as normal as possible, and they’re not called _defective_ because that hurts their feelings? Poit?” and he twisted his tail between his hands, because there was no “winner!” sound effect, which meant he was wrong, and something within him (his toon instincts kicking in, maybe) told him Bad Stuff was to happen if he answered wrong. 

And that’s when he noticed the giant barrel of concentrated Dip being opened by one of the humans wearing latex gloves and a gas mask. Dave the human grabbed a pair of shiny white pliers with a green stripe, which looked conveniently made to grab something lanky and slippery, such as a toon mouse, and wasn’t it nice that someone thought of inventing a tool for grabbing toon mice? How thoughtful of them! Those slippery mice would never escape from those pliers again! Good job, pliers! 

But then the pliers took him, and gripped too hard (Ouch. Poit), and he realized that, no matter how much he psyched up, he still felt a lot more pain that what he was used to, as if his toon abilities didn’t work anymore, and it had to have something to do with those pliers, he was sure, and poor Pinky realized, too little too late, that this wasn’t...

A Foam Party. 

…

His hands trembled, he felt out of breath, and his heartbeat, erratic and desperate, pounded painfully inside his chest. 

They took him. Oh no, they took him. They’d kill him and the last time he saw those eyes the color of summer, they were mad at him, crying because of him, and Pinky would die without ever knowing that Brain thought he had enough talent, and he needed Pinky to know that!

He needed Pinky to know that he was the only mouse he… tolerated, and now that was impossible. Pinky would get Dipped, and it was his fault. That stupid audition! He should have never thought of going! Not only did he betray the most important mouse in his life, he did it for what? For nothing less than a few crumbs, and now the scientists took him away, and their sponge bed would always be empty from now on; and what’s the use of the World if Pinky was gone?

“Why didn’t you do anything?! You saw them take him away and not a peep?! You shouldn’t have left him alone! You shouldn’t have gone to that stupid audition! What is wrong with you?!” Brain lashed out, hot angry tears threatening to spill out. All of the rodents (and the gorilla) in the room mumbled awkward excuses.

“I was about to peep, but then I remembered I’m not wearing a diaper” the gorilla muttered shyly and all of the rodents surrounding him took a quick step back.

“Brian, honey, don’t project your feelings onto us” Brain’s mom replied, with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but what did you expect us to do? We’re lab-bred toons! We don’t have the means to fend--” She tried to hold her son by the shoulder but he shrugged her off abruptly. 

“So am I! So is Pinky! Maybe. Come to think of it, I have no idea.” Wait, he was digressing “That doesn’t matter right now! They can’t take our free will away from us! They just claim they do to keep us down! But Pinky, he never cared about that…” _Why are you talking in past tense, Brain? Don’t let your breath hitch. Conceal, conceal, conceal._ “He never cared that he was lab-bred, because he knew it doesn't even matter where we come from, but what we’re made of! So let's show them we’re more than ink and paint! Let’s show em they can’t control us! If we don’t do it for ourselves, we’ll do it for Pinky! Tonight, we are Free Toons! YES!” Brain shouted.

For twenty seconds or so, nothing happened. Then, the gorilla took an empty cage, yelled “FOR PINKY!!!!”, and smashed it against the window, breaking it.

A revolution had begun.

…

Inside the Dipping Room, Pinky was running out of ideas to entertain the humans 

“Uhm! Wait! Before you Dip me, do you wanna hear my new cheese song? _A world of--_ ” He started singing and loud martial music came out of nowhere, startling the humans. The one holding the pliers squeezed even harder, taking the air out of his lungs and cutting off the music. 

“Quiet, mouse! Look, you’re not helping your case, you conjured an orchestra even inside the toon-proof pliers! Do you have any idea of what that means?”

“It means that these pliers have good musical taste?” Pinky asked breathlessly, grimacing “Oh, thank you pliers! Can you stop hugging me so tight, though? You’re hurting me a little bit, poit.” The pliers crushed him even more, and Pinky whined. He felt something crack inside of him, and feared he would pass out from the pain.

“No! That means you’re defective! You’re too powerful to be safe for humans! The hamster is right, we don’t want another breed of Judge Doom in our lab!”

“I won’t breed, I promise! I don’t even know any girls!” Pinky begged and he was lowered into the barrel of Dip. 

The smell alone made his eyes water, the fur on the back of his neck bristle, and his stomach churn. He kicked the air hopelessly, struggling with all his might to stay away from the nauseating and bubbly green acid underneath him. He didn’t even know which tears came from the strong, acrid smell of Dip and which ones from fear. 

“Any last words?” The man was almost sorry he was gonna have to Dip him, the mouse _was_ entertaining to watch.

“How-- bout… a joke? Zort” He choked out in between dry heaves, the pliers were gripping too tight, his organs felt about to burst; and the smell of Dip made his eyelids burn. Surprisingly enough, the human raised him up to his level, the shiny glasses of the gas mask reflecting Pinky’s face, which had turned a slight shade of sickly green; and his glassy blue eyes. 

“No! Enough already! Man, you performer toons are too stupid for your own good! You only think about making other people laugh even when your lives are on the line!”

“A laugh... “ Pinky choked up “Can be a very powerful thing” 

“Yeah, can it, Roger Rabbit, we don’t have time for jokes. I have a dentist appointment at six.”

And he lowered Pinky to the barrel of Dip.

The door of the Dipping Room slammed open, and one distraught scientist poked his head into the room.

“Sir! The Toons are revolting!” He shouted.

“That is so rude!” Pinky scoffed “Why, if you gave us soap once in a while, and cleaned our cages every now and then…” The man holding the pliers slammed them over the table, bonking Pinky’s head in a not very fun way, stunning him. But it didn’t matter, he was away from the barrel of Dip, and while the man was still holding the pliers and he couldn’t break free, the only thought inside his head was that he was away from the barrel of Dip. He focused on that thought, as if it was a lifeboat in the tempestuous and sorta smelly ocean he had for a brain; for he was aware that said thought was the secret for his survival: He had to stay away from the barrel of Dip as much as possible.

This had to be the worst Foam Party of History.

(Narf)

...

Inside the rodent ward, everything was chaos. Papers were being destroyed, lab equipment was broken… Some mice took lab coats and ignited them with Bunsen burners, crying for revolution, others were taking the bookshelves down, the gorilla continued his vendetta against cages. 

In the middle of the ruckus, Brain stuffed his hammerspace with tools and made his way towards the broom closet, where his human suit awaited him. It was still a prototype, the engine got stuck sometimes and the arms acted out, but it would have to do. It was the quickest way to reach Pinky. 

Taking a few seconds to admire the toon uprising, he finally climbed inside the suit, a wrench between his teeth, and got to work.

...

“The toons want to negotiate, sir! They said they’ll calm down if we let that Pinky fellow go” 

“We’re not negotiating with toons! Call security, you morons!” The lead scientist yelled “And you!” He pointed at the man with the pliers “Just Dip him!” 

“The last thing those toons need is a martyr, sir” The man commented

“Dave, just Dip that goddamn creature already!”

The other toons in the lab wanted to help him? Pinky wanted to cry, but this time the tears felt different: happier, even hopeful. Oh, if they wanted to help him, it meant he did something right, right? He helped them find their smiles, and now they were helping him back!

And oh, what if Brain was behind this? Even though his smile was harder to find, as if it was wearing those awful camo slacks, it was there sometimes, and it always was because of the World… or because of him. 

Pinky wanted to squeal! People cared! Brain cared! And maybe they were on their way! But he bit his lips, so the evil stepfather with his scary mask wouldn’t throw him in the barrel of venom, so similar to the one that poisoned Snow White’s apple in the Disney film.

No, if this was a Disney movie, and his knight in white shining fur was coming to save him, Pinky didn’t wanna be a helpless princess like Snow White! He wanted to help, like the magical mermaid and her twenty thingamanarfs. He’d help them help him! 

And so, Pinky closed his eyes, breathing as deeply as possible, with the faint smell of Dip burning his lungs on the way in. Still he tried to calm himself down, despite the chaos from outside and the panic within. Why, if he conjured an orchestra moments ago, maybe he could conjure an illusion now. A quick one, otherwise he’d pass out; illusions were difficult enough without toon-proof pliers. 

He was thinking of turning the Dip into melted cheese, to confuse the scientists and gain enough time for his friends to come save him. Oh, but the pliers hugged him so tightly, it was harder than usual to focus! Poit. 

His breath hitched, and he peeked with one eye. For a fraction of a second, the Dip had turned cheese-yellow instead of vomit-green, but it wasn’t enough. Not that he’d stop trying. 

That night, Pinky would give the performance of his life.

He didn’t have much of a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm playing with puns beyond my ken in this chapter D:
> 
> Some of you guessed Snowball was behind Pinky's dipping, and you were right. Congratulations. Have a blue jolly rancher.  
> Pinky's "real" name, Subject Three Omega Five Nine comes from (spoiler alert) episode 13 of the reboot. Three Alpha Five Nine is Brain's "real" name. Pinky is Omega BECAUSE HE WAS THE LAST TOON THEY ADDED TO THEIR EXPERIMENT AND THAT'S THE ONLY REASON ALRIGHT?!!!!  
> (but, like I said before, Death of the Author and all that)
> 
> Pinky has some Roger Rabbit traits, and he even stole his catchphrase. It's fitting.  
> "The toons are revolting!" comes from the greatest escape movie ever made: Chicken Run.  
> Pinky sings his Cheese Roll Call (oop, that's my name!), and again, of couuurse Pinky imagines himself as a Disney princess. 
> 
> Thanks for all the support! See you soon!


	6. Do You Hear The Toon Mice Sing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you all so so much! Your comments truly make my day, every day :3
> 
> Once more, a special thanks to Plutonis who's still my beta reader, my editor, my confidante, and she doesn't have an account here but I know she's reading anyways so <3
> 
> A quick heads up, this chapter is the reason why there's a content warning here. It's a little bit violent, just so you know.

_Screw #9, where was the screw #9?!_

Brain looked around, frantically. He could feel the sweat droplets tickling his ears, itching his eyes. The toon uprising continued (his parents seemed to be the leaders of the insurrection) but to him it was merely white noise. He had to find that goddamn screw to finish fixing his suit and save Pinky, _if there was still some Pinky to be saved…_

No, no, no. Fatalistic thinking wouldn’t get him anywhere right now. He shook his head, breathing deeply. _Not now, Brain. Focus on finding the screw number..._

“Looking for this, Brainy?” He heard below, and he peeked from the top of the suit. On the ground, Snowball smiled at him, waving screw #9.

Oh great! and drat.

He jumped from the suit, landing softly thanks to some gravity control. Snowball clapped sarcastically. 

“Impressive! You’ve been practicing your toon abilities” Snowball looked around, whistling softly “You never told me you guys were having a revolution, I could have brought some snacks, a guillotine...”

“Not now, Snowball” Brain replied sternly, expecting anything but the smile and the condescending chuckle he got.

“Oh, so this is how it’s gonna be? I had a new offer for you, even after I almost lost my head, and that’s your answer? _Not now, Snowball_?” Snowball taunted him with the screw, hiding it in his hammerspace before Brain could take it. 

“Did you come here to steal my tools, or are you gonna make yourself useful?” He asked, his voice missing the usual bite, sounding almost defeated “ _Please_ , hand me that screw. I need it for my machine. Pinky is in trouble, and I--”

 _Of course_ this was about Pinky. 

“Pinky, Pinky, Pinky, it’s always Pinky with you.” He clicked his tongue “This is why you’re never taking over the world. That mouse has you wrapped around his little finger, you surrender to his every whim! Love is blinding you, my fair Brainy” He bopped Brain’s nose with the screw, leaving a little scratch; and snickered at the mouse's telling blush, finally giving him the metal piece. He expected a witty retort, but there was none.

A speechless Brain? What a blessing, what an oddity. And oh, what fun.

Brain took the screw without making an effort to even glare at him, and headed to his human suit.

“Which is why, as a token of friendship” Snowball continued nonchalantly “I decided to do you a solid and get him Dipped”

That stopped Brain on his tracks. Screw #9 slipped from his fingers, and he turned around, so slowly it was almost comical, his face contorted in a mix of rage and fury. 

“That was you?!” He hissed. A more empathetic creature would have noticed that taunting Brain at this moment was as reckless as waving a red cape in front of a bull.

But Snowball, not the empathetic kind, missed the warning signs entirely.

“I told you he'd regret messing with me" Snowball said menacingly, and laughed, patting Brain’s back as if they were good friends "Come on, Brain, it's for your own good. He was a mere distraction in your path to glory, but now you can join me, and together we--”

Brain would never know what they would do together; he tackled the hamster to the ground, growling like an… animal. 

“How dare you!” he growled. Snowball, after the initial shock, seemed utterly unimpressed.

“Oh Brain, your feeble state of mind is so pathetic it’s almost unfunny!” He smiled condescendingly, and his smile widened as he stabbed Brain’s eyes with his fingers “But yet, you still manage to be slightly amusing” 

Brain yelped and sat on his heels, rubbing his eyes. In that moment, the hamster jumped over him, his claws out, digging on the mouse’s arms. Brain yelped again, kicking instinctively to no avail.

“You can’t even defeat me in a fight that you started! So deplorable….”

“Well, you’re playing dirty!” Brain retorted, trying to push the hamster away from him. Snowball chuckled.

“Oh, I’m not playing dirty, my friend. _This_ is playing dirty” And he dug his teeth into Brain’s shoulder, drawing ruby ink out of the mouse. He spat more ink and grinned, his teeth stained a dark shade of red. 

He prepared to bite again, but Brain managed to punch his jaw, escaping the deranged hamster as fast as he could, even though his speed was somewhat affected by his hand clumsily applying pressure over his injury. It wasn’t enough; that bastard had probably bitten his axillary artery, it was unusual to bleed this much. The red ink dripped from his injury to the floor.

Brain swallowed the bile coming up his throat, this was no moment to falter, he couldn’t fail right now. He needed to get back on the machine. Pinky could be already--

“Oh Braaain, come out to play!” Snowball sang, running behind him.

Brain glanced back to see Snowball taking a test tube and smashing it against a wall. He reached for his hammerspace, hoping something useful would come, but it was a pie. 

“Drat,” He muttered, fear kicking in. Of all the things he could have taken out, real or fake, why a pie? Why not a death-ray or… anything useful? Snowball, with that rabid ink-stained smile, was running towards him, swinging the glass shards with mad glee.

“Awww, what are you gonna do with that, invite me to a tea party?” Snowball taunted him, and did he have a twin? or was the ink loss making him dizzy?

That’s when he understood what he had to do: put on a show. Moreso, he heard Pinky’s lovely singing voice inside his head, away from the madness, the revolution, his own delirious loss of ink: 

_“Throw a pie at them and you’ll be the number one”_

“Even worse, Snowball. I’ll be… A toon performer.” 

And he threw the pie at Snowball’s face, using his temporal blindness to bonk his head with a toon mallet. It wasn’t painful, he didn’t want it to be, but the impact was enough to make the hamster drop his test tube, crashing to the floor. 

He ran for his life, towards the cage he and Pinky shared, where that absurd metallic box with stickers awaited, which contained everything to, in Pinky’s words “cure Brain’s owies”: gauze, band-aids, cotton, rubbing alcohol. He made the mental note to thank Pinky for thinking about that first aid kit, if Pinky was still alive, of course.

Or if they both died. 

Shaking his head, which didn’t help with his dizziness, his hand still holding his bleeding shoulder, he ran towards the edge of the cabinet on which their cage stood, and jumped off and onto the handle of the drawer closest to the ground. He didn’t know if Snowball had managed to wipe the pie from his face. If he’d had more time or experience, he would have made that pie of concrete and glue, but so far he could only manage meringue.

No matter, he was here, and his hand held the first handle, pushing with all his might to jump to the second drawer. 

It was then, when something grabbed his tail and pulled him back to the ground, falling with a soft thud and hitting his injured arm _again_. Brain bit his lip to contain a yelp of pain; he was less successful at holding back a tear. Oh, if only he could empty his mind right now, so as not to feel any pain! But inside it was all chaos, chaos, chaos. Oh if only he could control his toon abilities better, like… Pinky.

“Awww, do you miss your little pet? Don’t worry, soon you’ll join him” Snowball purred, pinning him, holding his shoulders and hitting the ground with Brain’s head, until his eyesight became blurry, barely having time to notice Snowball holding a shard from the test tube, his hand also covered in ink. 

He squirmed to no avail, and the hamster rolled his eyes, as if he wasn’t hurting himself with the broken glass held tightly against his palm, as if there wasn’t a revolution surrounding them (the rodents had discovered the nitroglycerin cabinet and there were explosions everywhere), as if he was downright _bored_ with everything around him. 

“Oh Brain, you _do_ have a flair for the dramatics. But let’s calm down a notch, shall we? We can still be friends! Why, you and I, we’re two peas in a pod!”

“You and I are not similar at all, Snowball, you’re delusional!” Brain hissed, and the hamster only chuckled, as if they were drinking coffee and discussing politics. 

“Maybe I am, just a little” Snowball mused, feigning indifference, and he traded his nonchalance for a rabid grimace in the blink of an eye “But soon, my friend you’ll be dead. So, who’s the real loser here, huh?” he shrugged, the glass shard pressed against Brain’s throat.

The mouse didn’t even speak, he had stopped squirming, and now he merely laid there, gasping, his palms in tiny fists, a small puddle of ink staining his snowy white fur red. How _boring_!

“Why did you stop fighting?” Snowball asked softly, as if he really cared, and ran the shard across Brain’s cheek in an almost loving manner, drawing even more ink out of the mouse. If anything, that made him squeal a little bit. “Are you tired, my dear Brainy? Do you wanna go home with your Pinky? Oh, but don’t worry, you’ll join him soon enough. It must be so interesting to see Pinky being Dipped. Picture that lovely shade of blue his eyes have, melting and going down the drain, like fresh water! The smell, Pinky’s colours diluting into nothingness… Oh, I just wish we could be there to--”

While Snowball fantasized about Pinky’s Dipping, his lack of empathy was, once more, his undoing. For he failed to see the way his words affected the Brain, he failed to recognize a dangerous shade of ruby darkening his pink eyes, he mistakenly ignored the mouse’s furious growl, and as such, the mouse bonking his head with a mallet was a surprise.

Snowball yelped, jumping back, and Brain kicked him away. This time, he would make that hamster _feel_ every hit. He took his mallet with both hands, making the illusion of it being larger and heavier than it was. Doing his best imitation of Pinky’s weightlessness, he pirouetted around Snowball, hitting him with the mallet every time the hamster confusedly spun trying to catch up. Slow, distorted Can can music began playing in the background, but Snowball scoffed, despite being severely injured.

“Is that all you’ve got?” He mocked Brain, who smiled at him and made his mallet vanish, a rope appearing in its place. Brain looked up, and Snowball’s eyes followed him.

An anvil casted a shadow over the hamster, who paled, his smug smile vanishing with an awful realization:

He couldn't move. 

Snowball screamed, but Brain languidly took a remote control from his hammerspace, pointed at him, and muted him at the push of a button. The hamster tried to talk unsuccessfully, grabbing his own throat, terror kicking in. He punched an invisible wall like a distraught mime, and Brain scoffed.

“Do you like it? It’s a little hypnotism trick I learned. You cannot move, and you’ll feel the pain of the anvil as if it were real. It will be so... gratifying” Brain purred, holding the ropes effortlessly. Since the hamster couldn’t answer, he yawned and turned the volume back up.

“Wait!" Snowball yelled once his voice was back "You can’t drop that over me! I don’t have toon abilities like you do, I’ll be squashed!”

“I am aware of that,” Brain said simply, and his hands released the rope, just a little bit, just to tease. Snowball laughed anxiously.

"I know where mr. Spielberg lives! Let me go and I’ll tell you!” Snowball begged, and the anvil dropped a little bit more. “Please, I’ll leave you two alone! You’ll never hear from me ever again!”

Snowball fell on his knees, but Brain’s mind was too clouded for mercy; the sheer power of his toon abilities, the endless possibilities of making the world bend to his every whim… Why hadn’t he done this before? Why hadn’t he used his toon power to subdue everyone? And why not start now?

“Pinky… wouldn’t like to know that you killed me.” Snowball ventured, gulping. It was small, but this time he noticed Brain’s reaction to the name; how his eyes went from ruby to the usual pale pink, and how his face went from megalomaniacal to concerned. Snowball would have found it amusing, if he hadn’t been scared for his life. 

But it worked, whatever power trip he had been in was finally over, and Snowball barely had time to move before the anvil fell, cracking the ground underneath.

“He... doesn’t need to know” Brain stuttered, and he noticed he was shaking and his arm was no longer bleeding (did the toon abilities include rapid healing?)

“I don’t think he’ll ever know, Brain. For, while you were here putting on your silly revenge toon show, your cute little partner must be already dead! He’s probably going down the drain as we speak! It’s only you, now, my--”

He didn’t even finish his sentence when Brain was already gone, screw #9 held firmly in his hand. 

…

“Listen, buddy, I can’t lose another job. I have to Dip you”

“But Dave!” Pinky looked at him with huge pleading eyes, and the human groaned.

He had seen that trick exactly once, with Tweety Bird: exploiting one’s cuteness with big, shiny eyes and a cute little voice. When done right, it was impossible to resist, and whoever was under its charm surrendered immediately. There was only one toon character who could perform this trick perfectly, but she was busy right now signing a pay-or-play contract.

Nonetheless, Pinky didn’t know that, as he didn’t know many things. He knew that he had seen that trick once, and was desperate enough to try it. He honestly hated that kind of illusion; it also demanded a little bit of hypnotism to make it work, and he felt dirty playing with people’s emotions, but after the cheese illusion failed (it demanded more power than he could currently muster) he was left with less and less options. 

And less time. Dave’s dentist appointment was getting closer, and Pinky noticed the man was in serious need for gum care. 

“I think you’re cute and all but--”

“I think you’re cute too! Please Dave, let’s run away! We’ll have a secret wedding, I’ll take your name, we’ll move to Peru! Your boss will never know!” he begged, giving himself longer eyelashes to enhance the effect.

_Please work, please work, narf, please work..._

Dave, hesitantly, took off the gas mask, and a pair of human brown eyes stared back at toony blue eyes, which was always a good sign: he was letting his guard down. Pinky gazed at him, as seductively as he could, conjuring some swelling orchestral music; his eyes half-lidded, his lips puckered... And it worked: the human approached him slowly, closing his eyes.

“Wait, I have a wife!” Dave stopped for a moment, inches away from the mouse, shaking his head as if he was waking up from a slumber “Stop it! I-I know what you’re doing! I saw Bugs Bunny do it once! You’re trying to seduce me with your toon powers, a-aren’t you?” 

Oh, Zort. 

Pinky smiled guiltily at him but the spell was broken, the man had noticed and he was pissed!

In retaliation for his broken heart (so sad, Dave, they could have made it work, narf) the man grabbed the pliers with both hands, tightening the grip so quickly and suddenly, Pinky barely had time to psych up. An actual mouse squeak escaped from his lips, and he went limp.

“You’ll stop playing with my emotions, you little tramp” Dave muttered, smiling, and lowered Pinky down to the Dip.

The smell was so pungent, it made Pinky regain consciousness, making him gasp, inhaling the vapors of Dip, and feeling it gnaw at his throat, his lungs. He coughed, his eyes watering. Oh, how he wished he hadn't cough, it only made him inhale more Dip vapors! He choked, and wondered if things could get any worse.

The pain that followed was enough of an answer.

It was the worst pain Pinky had gone through in his whole life, it felt as if they had thrown him in bubbling, viscous fire that stuck to his fur and burned him inside and out; he could feel himself _dissolving_ . With the pliers still grabbing him, he had no way of tuning down the agony a little bit, as he had done in every experiment before this. This was raw suffering, no filter. And it was _excruciating_. He let out a piercing cry, so high-pitched, the windows trembled, and humans covered their ears.

While Pinky yelped in pure agony, someone very politely tapped Dave on the shoulder, making him turn to see nobody there. And when he turned back, a sucker punch landed on his face. 

In the midst of the most intense suffering Pinky had felt, he vaguely noticed he was falling to the barrel of Dip, and barely had time to brace himself for even more pain, let alone bid his last farewells.

But he didn’t fall on Dip. He fell on something metallic, hazily registering the cold against his cheek, since the burning feeling and the Dip kept eroding his tail and his right hind paw, moving upwards. He noticed he was on a giant metallic hand, and with blurry eyes he saw a tiny chubby white head looming over him, another metallic hand reaching something on the roof, and…

Suddenly, cold water rained over him, diluting the Dip and calming the intense pain he felt on his tail and his paw almost instantly. Pinky wheezed, his chest moving desperately up and down, every breath reminded him he was still alive, and he didn’t wanna forget that. 

The pliers released him, and he stretched his arms. Rubbing his eyes was delicious.

With a clearer view, he looked up. Perched on top of a giant human suit, one metallic hand still holding the broken shower head, Brain looked back at him and smirked, relief disguised as self-conceit.

And if Brain smiled, it meant everything was fine now.

The hand holding Pinky went high enough to cautiously place him on its shoulder, next to the tiny mouse driving the machine, and Pinky almost threw both mice off the human suit with his tackle-hug.

“Brain! My hero!” He nuzzled his friend, who didn’t nuzzle him back.”I’m so sorry! I was so meanie with you! Will you ever forgive me?” He cried, covering his friend’s cheeks with tears and snot. 

“Yes, always” Brain answered plainly “As long as… you forgive me as well” He pulled the other mouse away, just enough to wipe his face of Pinky’s tears (and some of his), and to breathe a little bit. He even, after some hesitation, managed to pat Pinky's head in an affectionate way, which in Brain's primitive love language was like shouting it from the rooftops.

When it came to Brain, Pinky knew it was the microscopic details that counted.

“I can’t believe you tricked that man with a shoulder tap and then teleported in front of him! That was funny, Brain! Narf!”

Brain cleared his throat, glancing down to hide a tiny prideful smile and an embarrassingly telling blush.

“I am not devoid of humor, Pinky. But please, save your gratitude for later” and they walked over Dave, making sure they didn't step on any of his fingers. Dave groaned, spitting out some teeth, the white tile floor painted red. 

“Oh Brain! Did you sucker punch a man for me?”

“No, Pinky, he just decided to take a nap in the middle of a toon uprising” Brain retorted sarcastically

“Oh, that’s alright then, isn’t it. Poit” Pinky shrugged, and looked out to get a better view of him “Sweet dreams, Dave!” He waved his hand “Oof, I hope he makes it to his dentist appointment in time, he’s gonna need it more than ever, Narf!"

Pinky marveled at the view on their way out. The scientists were all tied together with gauze and torn lab coats, toon gorillas watching them, and in the hallway some toons danced and sang _Do You Hear The People Sing?_ in circles around small bonfires. That song was the musicalization for their triumphant entrance, and everyone sang with even more enthusiasm as Pinky and the Brain, on top of a human metallic suit entered the room, Brain carrying Pinky bridal style (he lost his paw, alright? It was the least he could do. He didn’t enjoy it at all). That song, that moment meant victory, it meant every lab-bred toon mattered.

Once the song was over, Pinky looked around, with an astounded “Naaaarf!”

“Aww, I can’t believe I missed all the fun!”

“You missed an anarchic bloodbath, Pinky”

“Exactly!”

“Pay no mind to that, my dear. There’s a more important venture in our path. Didn’t I tell you to save your gratitude for later?”

“Why, Brain? Where are we going?”

And Brain smiled at him again! (twice in a row?! _Swoon_ )

“It’s a surprise”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toons bleed red ink here. 
> 
> I know I said I loved Snowball because he's an unrepentant asshole, but I genuinely had to take breaks while writing this because I hated him so much!
> 
> The title of this chapter, as well as the final scene are based in the Les Miserables song. I've only seen the Animaniacs parody of it, mind you.
> 
> This was a more dynamic chapter, and I had absolutely no practice with fight scenes (so yeah, this may have sucked). This one was based on Judge Doom vs. Eddie Valiant in WFRR, a little bit of Spinel's song in Steven Universe (another thing I'm yet to watch), and my own beta reader's fic "Equivocal" which is in FFn, not here, but check out her work because she's the best.
> 
> I tried to bring a little bit of Brain's dark side that we saw on the reboot here. I wanted a neat little contrast on how both mice use the exact same toon abilities (music and illusions), but while Brain uses them to provoke fear, Pinky uses them for love. 
> 
> Get ready for the next chapter! It will be totally insane-y....


	7. As Harmless as Dynamite (without a fuse)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the final stretch and if I don't thank my friend and editor Plutonis, and all of you who keep reading and liking and commenting on this thing I'll literally die /jk  
> DISCLAIMER: I don't enjoy writing about real, alive people. The version of Steven Spielberg this story mentions is the one that appears in Animaniacs, and it has nothing to do with the real human person.

**_Toontown, Hollywood, 1992_ **

It was rather obvious that the Warner Siblings had never left the Warner Studio Lot. For starters, Wakko punched a wall, thinking it was a toon prop, and cried when it hurt his hand. Dot was so shocked no one knew who she was, that she had a mild existential crisis. Yakko realized women tend to slap you when you catcall them, they call the cops when you jokingly say " _Harder, mommy"_ ; and _then_ he found out cops don't enjoy puns. 

All in all, humankind was a cruel mistress for the toon siblings. 

Luckily, the trio got some ice cream (a water based lemon sorbet for Yakko) and a helicopter trip for their woes.

The trip went off with a good start, except for a brief moment when Wakko tried to eat the helix, and Dot temporarily blinded the pilot with kisses. It was Yakko who saved the day then, singing a song about _all_ helicopter models in chronological order. It was, as Yakko's songs tended to be, extremely long and annoying, but his siblings listened to him, enthralled, as they did with every list song their brother made up to educate them and help them ignore the fact that they had been trapped for decades inside the water tower. The humans didn’t know that, however, so by the model Bell OH-58 Kiowa, built in _“nineteen sixty siiiix”_ they felt they’d lose their minds. 

Nonetheless, it was, to put in perspective, a small price to pay for Mr Spielberg's safety. Not that they'd be dangerous, the Warner sibs were forever grateful to Mr. Spiel, but after being locked for so long, they needed a constant reminder that humans were more fragile than toons. 

While his younger siblings took everything a little bit more lightly, Yakko was aware that their "happy ending" was far from over. It was a miracle that Mr. Spielberg, in one of his daily walks through the studio, heard them pounding against the walls of the water tower, as they had done every day since they had been locked in, and that he decided to investigate, releasing them after many years trapped within its toon-proof walls. It was even more miraculous that he wanted to make a show with them, despite the studio warning him he had just opened Pandora’s box.

As if three kids (disheveled, malnourished and bored out of their minds), represented all unspecified evils to come. 

Hence, Yakko tried to behave a little better than usual, even accepting the toon-proof bracelet, which, while not turning off their power completely (it was almost impossible, they spent all of their time inside the tower practicing), toned it down significantly. So they weren’t currently zany to the max, just… above average.

Dot was the most vocal against them ("these bracelets are too tight! They don't match with my purse!" "Dot you don't _have_ a purse." "Exactly! I can't, I'd be a fashion disaster!") but complied after her oldest brother gave her a rather eloquent glare.

To put things mildly, it was an awkward flight. The Warner sibs had the reputation within the studio of being uber-powerful eldritch abominations, and the pilot and co-pilot were obviously about to crap their pants. 

Ok, that _may_ have been his fault. When he promised the three kids were "as harmless as dynamite" he meant dynamite _without_ a fuse. Oh, well. 

Nonetheless, the inkblot children sat as still as possible for three hyperactive kids, trying their best to seem harmless, even amping their cuteness a notch. Really, the only one who seemed to be at ease was Mr. Spielberg. After working with dinosaurs, you get an iron temple, Yakko assumed. 

After his twenty minute song was over, Yakko counted thirty seconds of silence, which for him was auditory torture (Ok and maybe he yakked even more when he was anxious, sue him. No, don't sue him, the studio lawyers _hate_ him) 

"Uuuhhhhh" He stood up and tapped the co-pilot's shoulder politely. The man jumped so jarringly, a toon would have gone through the roof "Are your three parachutes and two toon-proof vests part of your Casual Friday outfit, or…?"

"Please toon demon, don't hurt me, I have a wife and two kids!" The man pleaded with teary eyes. Yakko rolled his eyes, doing his best to pull a sardonic "take a look at this guy!" face for his younger sibs, who seemed utterly offended.

“Gasp! How did you know that! Sibs, this man just read my mind! I was thinking about ravaging you right now! But since you used the magic words _please_ and _thank you_ , you’re spared from toon violence. We don’t wanna ruin your Casual Friday, right buddy?” he retorted and shook the greenish bracelet on his left hand "Besides, this lovely fashion accessory wouldn't let me, even if I wanted to. Isn't it cute? It matches my green eyes" He made his eyes, two ink colored dots, almost as large as his face "These are contacts" he batted his lashes “Say, can you tell me what I’m thinking of right now? I’ll give you a clue, it has to do with you, and it starts with _toon_ and ends with _bigot--_ ”

"Yakko, stop!" Dot demanded, her voice higher than usual. 

Those who knew Dot well, like Yakko did, knew that her voice went two octaves higher when she was feeling anxious. 

"You're gonna scare 'em" she whispered, pointing at the terrified pilots. Yakko rolled his eyes. 

As if they needed their help for that. He was about to retort, but the smaller Warner pouted angrily, and no one needed an angry Dot right now, pulling little pets out of her hammerspace.

He flomped next to his other sibling who discreetly ate the stuffing of their seat like popcorn. He was about to say something else, (really, awkward silences were his personal hell), but blissfully, Mr. Spielberg spoke first.

"We're almost here, kids." 

The Warner sibs looked down, to a giant mansion on top of the mountain. 

"Welcome… to my humble abode". 

…

The Warners had never left the Warner lot before, but even _they_ knew what they were staring at wasn’t “humble” at all.

A Mediterranean style mansion stretched out beyond the siblings' sight, even larger than the Warner Lot, surrounded by a beautiful garden with rose bushes shaped like dinosaurs, sharks, and UFOs, the closest thing they'd ever seen to the zaniness of a toon mansion, but this one was human!

As the trio made their way towards the house, wandering by the fantastical bushes, past the giant E.T. fountain with water coming out of the creature's extended finger, Yakko wondered if it had a library (or maybe even two or three!), Wakko fantasized about the size of the kitchen, and Dot longed to see the pretty ponies Mr. Spiel talked about, somewhere in his private stables. 

Inside, all italian marble and mahogany, as Mr. Spiel nonchalantly told them, was even more imposing than outside, and the Warner siblings found themselves huddling together, holding hands. A place as labyrinthian as that could make anyone get lost, and as they walked by, with Mr. Spielberg telling them about his private cinema, his gigantic ball pit, the bowling alley, Yakko thought of the small home they had made out of a prison, and he almost felt envious. Humans didn’t need to conjure furniture out of their hammerspace, humans didn’t waste all their energy, even while trying to sleep, to maintain the illusion working, otherwise they’d wake up on the floor, with their beds disappearing in blue smoke. Well, to be fair, not even toons had to do that. Only the Warner siblings, as far as Yakko knew, had to conjure illusion beds every night. 

Then again, the idea of living there, even with permanent furniture and real beds was not exactly alluring, Yakko thought. He imagined never knowing where his siblings were, getting lost inside a house with far too many rooms… and that made him long for the intimacy of his water tower, as he absently held his sibs tighter. 

"Now, kids, I brought you here for a reason" Mr. Spiel said, and he wasn't even finished when the Warner sibs pirouetted, changing their clothes to mobster-like trench coats and fedoras. 

"Tell us, Mr. Spiel! Who do you want sleeping with the fishes?" Yakko asked while Wakko took a giant trout from his hammerspace "We'll do it, no questions asked"

"Is it Eisner? _Please_ tell us it's Eisner" Dot added

"I play golf with Eisner on Sundays" Mr. Spiel mused "No, no, I brought you here… to meet my children"

It wasn't often that Yakko was speechless.

"Uhhh…."

"You're about to start shooting a show for kids and you've never even met kids your age! I thought it was about time"

"Do you want us to scare them?" Wakko asked

"Or give them a lesson?" Dot added

"Or put on a show?" Wakko insisted, once he noted his brother was still trapped in an "Uhhhh…" 

"No! Just to hang out with them, to enjoy yourselves. You've been locked in for a really long time"

"But everyone says we're too dangerous for humans!" Dot cried. Really, exposing his own offspring to them? Three deranged, ultra powerful toons? Mr. Spiel must be insane!

"They say we're a crime against humanity and we should've never been born," Wakko added softly.

"And that they would Dip us if it wasn't illegal!" Dot added "They locked us in the tower for a reason: We're too dangerous for humans!" 

"Are you? I don't think so" He shrugged, “I think you’re just three extremely clever, creative, and fun kids," with this, he brushed the fur on their heads, smiling warmly at the trio "trapped in an adult human world that doesn’t understand you” 

That shook the three Warner sibs to their core (and snapped Yakko out of his loop)

"Mr Spiel…” Yakko began, glancing at his sibs (Wakko's mouth was open in shock, his tongue brushing the floor; and Dot seemed on the verge of tears) Shoot, they'd only done this with each other. He fiddled with his fingers, not daring to look up "Can we… hug you?" his voice cracked.

In response, the man opened his arms.

Oh dear! Oh god! This was not a drill! The three siblings felt their cartoon energy building up with excitement, and prepared to give the greatest hug ever given.

Nothing could ever ruin this moment! Not even a toon mouse on a metallic suit wrecking the living room wall and entering the house!

Except….that’s exactly what happened. (And yeah, it totally ruined the mood)

Yakko barely had time to carry his siblings to safety, out of the way of the metallic murderous machine, and only when his heart stopped trying to get out of his chest, he regained the ability of speech.

"Dude, what the f-?!" He shouted.

“This is not the front door, Brain!” Another mouse with buck teeth peeked through the pocket of the human suit, stared at the other mouse with a frown, and then looked at the three inkblot kids and the director, his frown turning into the biggest smile. “Oh! Hi! Zort” He waved his hand enthusiastically. The Warners stared at him in awe, Dot reluctantly waving back.

"This is just a prototype! I still can't control it fully" The mouse on the top of the suit explained, his voice deeper than they expected. 

The two mice held hands and jumped from the mechanical suit to a glass table that miraculously survived the attack, the small one helping the taller one, who was missing a leg. Behind the table, Mr. Spiel sat helplessly on the floor, his eyes as big as plates. 

"My apologies, I tried to use the door, but even with the screw #9 my human suit keeps getting stuck. Maybe if I could create another type of alloy, with higher ductility--" the taller mouse squeezed his hand.

"Ehm, Brain?" He whispered in his ear, clearing his throat, and the smaller mouse shook his head. 

"But my associate is right, I may be digressing. Mr. Spielberg, my name is The Brain, and I need you to listen!" The mouse said, urgency spilling from his voice. 

He told them everything. About the Brisby Act, and how it failed to protect lab-bred toons, and the Dip experiments back home, About the other mouse’s need to perform, and his natural knack for it. Pinky, the one with the buck teeth, even demonstrated a few tricks, maybe not as complex as what the Warners could do, but for a self-taught, lab-bred mouse, it was impressive regardless. 

While the Warner siblings were still sore about their interrupted hug, the mice grew on them. After all, the trio were still alive thanks to another law, the Roger Rabbit Act, which forbid the use of Dip outside of toon penitentiaries and for scientific purposes. 

Back in the 80s when Dip was created, the Studio decided it was too expensive to pay for all the food Wakko needed to survive and decided to Dip the trio, convincing them that no one could watch their movies, that they were too dangerous to be kept alive.

The Warners fought with all their might, trying to escape, but after the studio threatened each one separately, promising to hurt their siblings if they didn’t comply, the trio was finally broken. After all, if three performing toons were too zany, too dangerous to perform, as everyone claimed…. What was the use?

The kids were already blindfolded, standing against the wall, surrounded by humans with Dip guns, holding each other’s hands and facing death with dignity, when an anonymous caller (Yakko suspected it had been Dr. Scratchansniff) got the toon police right on time, claiming they were going against the Roger Rabbit Act. 

The toon police intervened, forcing the studio to stop the Dipping. The studio paid enough money to sweep the incident under the rug, the siblings were once again thrown in the tower, and the world continued as usual, until the trio was discovered ten years later by the only human in the world who didn’t fear them at all. 

Wakko, who still had nightmares about it, tried to eat less, even when Yakko assured him time and time again it wasn't his fault, that they needed a scapegoat. 

The mice, with that same theme of humans treating toons like lesser creatures, talked about their missed audition and Brain’s own plans for world domination. Pinky interrupted at times, to explain his version of things, how he used illusion to escape being Dipped, how they erased his long, lovely tail and his leg (and showed them his sad little stumps) and to say random interjections (Egad! Narf! Poit! Zort!) 

While they spoke, Mr. Spiel remained silent. Once they finished, he took off his glasses with one shaky hand, folded the frames carefully, placed them on the glass table…

And laughed.

He laughed for what seemed to be hours, or at least minutes, holding his sides, rolling on the floor. The Warner siblings side eyed the mice, who in turn shrugged, as confused as them. All the toons in the living room remained speechless until he recovered his breath.

“Kid, that's the craziest pitch I've ever heard” He told Brain (pitch? It was their personal tragedy!) 

“You two _have_ to be in our show.” 

The toons rejoiced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course I based all of the Warner's and Spielberg's interactions in that picture of them hugging him, why you ask? :P  
> And of couuurse I had to jump on the bandwagon of Warner siblings angst, you know I'm a sucker for angst. 
> 
> Eisner is, of course, Michael Eisner, Disney's CEO when this story takes place.
> 
> The Warner Siblings are notoriously hard to write, but keep in mind these are their 90s characterizations, when Yakko was still obsessed with girls. They also came out kind of Baudelaire-y (not that I'm complaining, I love Daniel Handler's style), and I based the scene where they marvel at the dinosaur shaped bushes in A Series Of Unfortunate Events where the Baudelaire orphans meet their Uncle Monty and his garden of snake shaped bushes.
> 
> The bushes are references to Spielberg's movies, Jurassic Park, Jaws and E.T., the almost Dipping described here is played like the shooting in Wakko's Wish, but with the weapon used in WFRR, and I'm playing with SHUT THE FFFFRONT DOOR from the reboot because it makes me laugh. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Your Hollywood Song (Oh, Honey Pie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first part of the finale, so brace yourselves...  
> When I started writing this, I had no clue of the impact it would have. So many people have read this, it's insane (-y) and despite writing so many words about these mice, I still can't find the right words to thank you all. And thank my beta reader too.

**_Toontown Hollywood, 1993_ **

Feeling a familiar dread, Brain paced on his cage.

Except it wasn’t his cage. It was an exact replica of it, in an exact replica of Acme Labs; and that was what made him uneasy, unsteady. The same feeling, a different location. Still just a mouse trapped in a cage, still helpless, still no control of himself, his surroundings; and the world still away from his grasp...

“ACTION!” someone shouted, and he felt his stomach drop, as if he was falling without gravity control, like before he learnt all toons had toon physics; lab-bred toons simply weren’t taught to use it. (really, that was an uncharacteristic moment of asininity; but he blamed it on the indoctrination he had received from a young age)

Action, they shouted, and Pinky got in position, so fast and eagerly, Brain wondered if that was the secret formula to make him obey. He’d have to try that once they were back home, in the lab. 

He corrected himself: There was no home anymore. After the toon Uprising, Acme Labs was closed. There were rumours they’d reopen, but this time with a different kind of experiment, under new management, and with non-toon animals. All the toons were released, Brain’s parents were on their way to Florida, they sent him postcards from their road trip.

(That was an inaccuracy: they sent the postcards to Pinky. _He_ was an afterthought)

“Uhm. Brain? Action” The director repeated, this time softly. Pinky moved from position (gasp!) to grab his shoulder in that gentle way only Pinky could, anchoring him back down. Only then he noticed he was hyperventilating. 

“Are you alright, Brain? Narf!” Pinky whispered, brushing his hand over Brain’s forehead, checking his ears, pulling his tail, poking his tummy, making him turn around… "We can ask them to give us five” 

Five _what_ ? Five cheeses? Balloons? Makeup brushes? The possibilities were endless, zort! And if he asked for those things, people _actually_ brought them! Everyone was so nice here! Naaaaarf!

“No, Pinky, I’m fine” He lied, swatting his partner's hands away from him. He cleared his throat and nodded to the director, who once again shouted “Action!”, Pinky teleporting to position. 

Pinky didn’t need to take five minutes every five minutes.

Pinky arrived onstage with his dialogue memorized to perfection (though, to be fair, the writers followed them around for three weeks to mimic their speech patterns and plans as perfectly as possible, the episode they were shooting was based on Brain’s last month fiasco; and _really_ , how hard is it to memorize “narf”?)

Pinky knew the names of everyone: from directors, to their co-stars, to the cameramen, to the makeup artists and catering crew, and he was incredibly popular, ( _especially_ with female rodents and some males… Hm.) 

Pinky was _thriving_ : under a healthier, Dip-free diet, his fur looked softer than ever, shining like silvery white silk under the spotlight, which made his impossibly blue eyes even more striking. After much pondering, Brain had decided that, since he didn't need his toon abilities for survival anymore, Pinky was finally using them for more mundane reasons, such as making himself irresistible with a bit of toon magic. It was impossible to be this attractive, err… for the ladies. There was always a collective lovestruck sigh whenever Pinky walked onstage. (and, again: Hm.)

It didn't take a rocket scientist to see which one of the two lab-bred mice belonged here.

And which one didn't. 

He would never know how they finished shooting, with his mind all over the place. He barely heard the director snickering to the editor something about the “Orson Welles mouse going full Paul Masson”, but he didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing; he didn’t know the jargon. For Newton’s sake, he was a future dictator, not an actor! Was that so hard to understand?!

From two lab-bred toons, to the stars in a Spielberg show, and even friends of the mysterious Warner Siblings (ehm, at least Pinky was their friend, he was kinda afraid of them. They were too powerful, and it unnerved him how such chaotic energy, that could easily be used to seize control of the world, was wasted on entertaining the infantile masses), their lives had changed all of a sudden, and while Pinky seemed to enjoy the thrilling ride, he felt constantly on the verge of passing out. It was overwhelming. They lost their home, their lab, their tools. They were currently living in a dollhouse inside the psychiatrist’s office, but it was temporary 

They had seen the Brisby Act get reformed, so Dip could only be experimented in toon penitentiaries, which was still horrifying, and wasn’t it disturbing that they changed the law just because two lab-bred mice were friends with Spielberg? Wasn't it unfair that toons weren't allowed in the senate, that they couldn't vote, that humans made the decisions that directly affected them? Oh, well, when he took over the world, he’d make it fairer for everyone.

They signed so many contracts, had so many pictures taken for markees and posters, and in all of them, he covered his anguished look with a mask of boredom or annoyance; which only Pinky noticed, but he always brushed Pinky’s concerns away. _Not now Pinky, there’s another photoshoot in five minutes. No, I already ate_ (he hadn’t). _Yes, I’m fine_ (he wasn’t). 

The only thing keeping him sane was, ironically enough, a loophole. Brain had noticed one of the contracts stipulated they were signing for the production and broadcasting of _one_ episode. It must have been a typo, their co-stars signed for a whole season, but that fact helped him sleep at night. He kept it a secret, he knew if he told Pinky, he’d immediately tell them.

And this plan, his most important one at the moment, couldn't be foiled. 

Just one episode, and he’d be free. He’d buy Acme Labs with the money they made from the pilot episode, and continue living life as he was used to, doing what he loved: trying to take over the world. Pinky would follow him. He _had to_. After all they had gone through, it was obvious they had to stick together through thick and thin. Honestly, life without Pinky never once crossed his mind, it was simply unthinkable. And really, Pinky loved to see him happy, he’d gladly give up everything for Brain

Even his… whole life’s dream. It wasn’t too much to ask. 

Right? 

…

 _Just one episode… Just one episode…_ Brain reminded himself from time to time, ogling the waiters with fancy champagne glasses on silver trays, and wondering if it was time to start drinking, and break the promise he made to his mother of not falling into the vices of the golden cage that was Hollywood’s life.

Just one episode and he’d never have to go to a pretentious celebrity wrap-up party such as the one they were in right now. An orchestra and a DJ took turns, playing softly over the murmur of both humans and toons, still divided into toon-only tables and human-only tables, despite it being a _supposedly_ inclusive event. The irony of that clumsy, phoney attempt at integration didn’t escape him, but it was a matter of time until a toon took over the world!

He heard his own voice saying it at the same moment he thought it and he looked around, flabbergasted. They had giant screens playing different clips from the new show, _Animaniacs_ , and it was their turn. He saw everyone laughing at the Brain on the screen, and did his best to repress the ever growing smile appearing on his face, cursing his toon nature of wanting to make people laugh. He bit his cheek and pondered, doing his best to ignore his voice playing in the background and the people watching, amused. Pinky’s laughter anchored him back to Earth.

He’d send Pinky to those events when he took over the world, he decided. Pinky seemed to be enjoying himself enough.

And unlike him, who looked like a depressed college professor, Pinky looked _stunning_ in a suit (It had something to do with the glittery pink bowtie. It enhanced his blue eyes)

Brain also had zero interest in the vapid trials and tribulations of the bourgeoisie (even though he was aware he’d one day be one of them), despite being pulled by Pinky to many, many of these encounters, to which he’d react with a furrowed brow, something that probably fed the rumours that he was cold, sarcastic and difficult to work with…

Nonsense. He wasn’t here to be friendly. He was here to… make one episode and leave. 

“Oh, and this is my lifelong cagemate, narf!” Pinky took his wrist and pulled him closer, as if he was a ragdoll, and he realized he had zoned out during what was probably a boring and superfluous chat with an old gray squirrel in a purple silk dress. 

“Is that how they call it now?” The squirrel retorted with a sarcastic smirk, raising her eyebrows at them. Pinky nodded with that naive smile of his, clueless, but Brain frowned, resenting the implication.

Their relationship was none of her business.

(Whatever relationship they had)

“Mhm! And my bestest friend in the whole world! Say hi, Brain!” He even lifted Brain’s hand, held by the wrist, and waved for him. 

“Oh, he speaks too?” The squirrel snickered, and Brain jolted his arm away from Pinky's grip. Glaring at the woman, hoping to look intimidating (an extremely difficult task given their size), he finally spoke

“Yes, madam; perhaps it was your hearing aid that was turned off” He retorted. Surprisingly, the squirrel laughed. “Now, if you excuse us, we have some personal business to discuss. Come, Pinky” He held Pinky’s wrist, pulling him off the table, sliding through the tablecloth to reach the floor 

“That’s us on that screen! We’re gonna take over the world, zort!” Pinky celebrated, waving goodbye at the old squirrel, who waved back, sarcastically but good humored.

“That’s what everyone in Hollywood says!” She yelled back, reclining on her seat “Ha! Newcomers…” 

Brain pulled Pinky, slipping through high heels, dancing shoes, long train dresses, the occasional fallen hors d'oeuvres that Pinky tried to take, but couldn’t, still under Brain’s death grip...

“Where are we going, Brain? Oh, there are the Warners! Can we go to them and say hi?” Pinky pointed towards the Warner Siblings, imposing as ever, with that threatening aura of mad power surrounding them. 

They sat with other toons their age: two rabbits, pink and blue; and a duck, and chatted unpretentiously, as if they hadn’t realized yet they would soon become Toon Royalty. 

“I wanna thank Dot for the bowtie! Look, it matches hers!" After the inkblot girl painted back his tail and leg, they had become inseparable, and indeed, instead of her usual flower, Dot wore a pink glittery hair bow, identical to Pinky's. 

Pinky pulled towards the kids’ table, with Brain pulling the opposite way. On the table, Dot overheard her name and turned towards the mice, standing up to say hi. 

“Pinky, we don’t have time for--” Pinky stopped pulling, making both mice collide with each other. He took this chance to hold Brain’s shoulders with great urgency, and stare into him with big, suddenly concerned blue eyes

She said you were gonna love it. Do you?" 

"Pinky, come on..."

"Do you love it? Zort" He insisted, shaking his shoulders. Brain rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Pinky, it’s a lovely clothing accessory” He ignored Pinky’s happy squee. “Now hurry” He once again grabbed his friend’s wrist and pulled.

“Why, Brain? Where are we going?”

“Home” Brain finally said. He pulled, pulled, pulled, but Pinky stood still.

“But Braaaain! I don’t wanna go home! The party's just getting started, and--”

“Pinky, please. You know better than anyone that you and I shouldn’t be here. We must prepare for tomorrow night.”

“Why? What are we going to do tomorrow night?” Pinky slapped his forehead “Oh! Right-o, Brain! The premiere of the show!”

“Pack up our things, get back to the lab, and try to take over the world!” Brain said simultaneously. 

"Oh sorry, we spoke at the same time! Let's do this again. I said--" Pinky began and Brain squeezed his muzzle to shut him up and stare into his eyes

“Pack up our things, get back to the lab, and try to take over the world" He said, marking every word, and released Pinky's muzzle. 

It seemed Pinky’s ears understood before he did, as they immediately plopped down. 

"P-p-poit?"

“This was fun as a one time thing, but we’re definitely not staying here! Pinky, I know this is impossible for you, but have some rationality once in your life: We can’t have a TV show. We’d have very little spare time for our plans to take over the world”

“But… Brain! Mr. Spielberg said this was our golden opportunity!”

“Entertaining the masses like a pair of clowns? Is that a golden opportunity to you?” Brain retorted, sighing deeply at the sight of his very distraught partner. He put his hand over Pinky’s shoulder “Open your eyes, Pinky. I can’t be the star of my own show.”

“Because why?!”

“Well, for starters, I’m not a master of comedic theory” Pinky blinked twice “That is: I’m not funny!”

“Yes, you are! when you say those long funny words… They like you, Brain! I like you!” Pinky cried, both mice unaware that the music had descended to a very low waltz, and the Warner siblings stood nearby, unsure if they should approach or not.

“Of course you like me, you're an idiot!”

“Well, right before we entered the ballroom you told me this place was filled with idiots!” Pinky said, a little bit too loud, enough for the fifty people or so in the surrounding tables to listen. A collective, indignant gasp was heard.

Brain wished the earth would swallow him; he was probably as pink as Pinky’s lovely new bowtie. 

“Brain, I wanna be here! Narf,” Pinky pleaded, his voice cracking up a little, as he tried to keep his tears at bay (there’s no crying in parties) “I thought you liked it too! Look around! Everyone is laughing with us! We’re helping so many people find their smiles! Don’t you want this? Don’t you feel a twirly fluttery feeling inside when everyone laughs at your jokes?” he asked passionately. 

“Of course not!” Brain lied, more out of angry embarrassment than honesty “Alright, fine! Stay if you want to! What, do you think I need you? That you make my life more fulfilling?” Correct “Well, you’re wrong! Why don’t you go with your new fancy bourgeois friends, huh, Pinky? I’m sure they’re just as empty headed as you are! I don’t need _you_ to take over the world! I don’t need anyone!” 

What a terrible moment for the DJ to stop the music. _Excellent job with your discreet personal business, Brain,_ he thought bitterly.

Pinky, who during his whole rant was covering his mouth, blinking furiously to prevent the tears from spilling out, finally broke down, running away.

An extremely awkward minute of silence later, the party resumed, more subdued this time.

Dot and her pink bunny friend sent death glares to Brain before running after the other mouse, and Brain stood there for a second, paralyzed and gasping for air, realizing the massive mistake he had just made. 

While everything continued without him, he quietly left the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the 14th day of Christmas my lover sent to me... Two arguing mice, imposter syndrome, a sarcastic squirrel, toon inequality..... and a partridge in a pear tree
> 
> The title of this episode references the song Honey Pie, about a man concerned that the glamour of Hollywood is taking his lover away from him. By The Beatles (don't @ me)  
> When the director mocks Brain, saying that he went full Paul Masson, it references Orson Welles' (Brain's inspiration) extremely drunk and dazed commercials for the wine brand Paul Masson. So basically he's roasting Brain's poor acting skills. But he was having an anxiety attack, so there's that.  
> Unfortunately, toons won't be allowed to vote until Dot marches for her cartoony rights in 2020.  
> There's a couple of references here to two fics by two very important friends of mine. One of them being Pluto's depressed college professor AU, and the other is one line questioning their relationship based on Churb's works.
> 
> Oh Brain, you anxious idiot, how are you gonna fix this?
> 
> Tune in for the fic finale to find out! Merry (belated) Christmas, Happy Holidays, and especially a happy, hopefully less chaotic, 2021!


	9. Pinky's Turn (The Same Thing We Do Everynight)

He couldn't go home. There was no home. And he couldn't go to the insipid dollhouse the psychiatrist lent them, everything Pinky owned was there: his newspaper roses, all the postcards his lab friends sent him, the feather boa Dot gave him, the broken vanity from all those months ago. And even worse, maybe Pinky himself was there, packing Brain’s stuff, preparing for the departure of who was supposed to be with him forever…

And Brain didn’t want to go. Not really, not at all. He cared not for showbiz (and if he did, he’d never admit it, his energy should remain focused towards world domination), but for… Pinky. As hard as it was to admit it to himself, he didn’t wanna leave, despite what he said in that moment of irrational anger, he didn’t want Pinky to abandon him for his fancier friends. While he could recall a life _before_ Pinky, no matter how dull and uninteresting it had been, a life _after_ Pinky was preposterous, so ungodly dreadful just thinking about it made him wanna scream or hit something. But _of course_ , his anger had to get the worst of him and make him lash out. 

Apologizing, as uncomfortable as it was, seemed the only option. But he didn’t know where to start. So he paced around the empty Warner lot, with the moon shining above him and the faint sound of the party in the background, looking for the words he tried to avoid, words that kept escaping his grasp, like the world and… like Pinky would, if he didn’t do something quick.

“Lover’s quarrel, huh?” A familiar voice called, and a shadow loomed over him. He turned to the voice, having to look up to see the white face of the eldest Warner sibling.

“Oh! Uhm… Bakko?” He ventured

“Almost.”

“Wakko?” 

“Uhhh… Nope, that would be my brother. I’ll give you a clue: the line of figures or coordinates that are arranged from top to bottom at the side of a graph or map represents the axis...?”

“Y...akko?” Brain guessed, and the inkblot pulled from above, changing the scenery into a game show stage. A “correct” bell rang, and confetti and balloons came out of nowhere. Yakko, suddenly in a shiny purple suit, took a microphone from his hammerspace, and spoke with a loud, bombastic voice:

“That 's correct! We have a winner, ladies and gentlemen! And your prize is--” He snapped his fingers and everything disappeared, sending them back to the empty lot “The realization that you are an asshole who tampered his relationship with the most important person in his life. Congratulations!” Yakko’s voice was heavy with irony, and he enthusiastically shook the mouse’s hand, rattling Brain in the air, before letting him fall softly back to the ground.

“Are you here to get your daily dose of _schadenfreude_?” Brain asked sourly, sitting next to the inkblot kid, both against a wall. 

“ _Nein, der Professor Brain_ , I’m just here for a quick smoke” The boy took a pipe from his hammerspace, winked at the flabbergasted mouse, and blew bubbles with it. Brain side eyed him, deadpan, and he put the pipe back “Alright, you got me. I’m a child of the Great Depression and lavish parties make me uncomfortable. Especially these _super inclusive_ , not segregated parties, with toons on one side and humans on the other.” he used air quotes and stretched his arms casually. 

“Your siblings seemed to be enjoying it just fine,” Brain said cautiously. 

“Well, my sister” he elongated the _r_ “isn’t, thanks to you. She’s in the restroom with Babs, consoling a very sad, very heartbroken lab mouse. Oh, and Wakko’s fine. He probably snuck to the kitchen with Buster and Plucky” 

They sat in silence for a moment, while Yakko’s purple suit disappeared in tiny blue wisps of smoke, showing a grey tuxedo under it.

“Say, for a mouse who’s certain he can’t entertain an audience, you did a pretty good job back there” Yakko continued “Keep going like this and you might steal Rita’s spot for _Most Melodramatic Animaniacs Character_ ” 

Since Brain remained silent, Yakko persisted.

“I was watching you guys on the screen. Steven (he lets me call him Steven) was right about you, you’re exhilarating!” A moment of silence, as he waited for the mouse’s answer. There was none. “Pinky’s a natural. His comedic timing is immaculate. And his singing voice has so much range!”

“He has… a natural knack for it.”

“You were good too. Funny. Not hilarious, or zany, mind you, but fun. Smart.” He nudged Brain’s ribs with his finger, playfully. The mouse blushed slightly. 

“I… Pinky did all the work, really.” He stuttered, chuckling awkwardly “I’m not an entertainer, I’m just… a laboratory mouse"

“Don’t fall into that trap” Yakko warned him, picking him up with two fingers and lifting him to eye level, his other hand under Brain's feet “That’s what they tell us toons, to conform, to be the thing that we were created for, without a choice. And you have situations like what you two lived inside the lab." His ink colored eyes seemed somehow darker than before, his voice, despite still belonging to a kid, sounded bitter and adult. "My sibs and I were told we were too dangerous for humans, that we were locked for their safety. We weren’t funny, or cute, or clever, or tremendously good looking," he gave a heartthrob smile for a camera that came out of nowhere, flashed at them, and vanished immediately, "just… monsters. And we believed them for so long, we agreed to be Dipped. We were told it was for the best” he said, merely a whisper.

Yakko wasn’t even looking at him, his eyes fixed on the water tower. 

“Shouldn’t you tell this to your psychiatrist?” Brain ventured, uncomfortable with such a dark statement coming from the mouth of the kid who threw anvils for fun.

“You’re staying with Scratchy, can you honestly tell me you’d spill the beans to him?” Yakko asked sarcastically, his voice back to its bombastic nature; and he had to agree. The boy lowered him back to the ground “Exactly. Don’t let them win. Be as many things as you wanna be. I’m a danger for human society, maybe, but I’m also an actor! And an intellectual, I’d like to think. And a smartass, a pretentious teenager, an older brother, a singer, a caretaker… and who knows what else I’ll be! The possibilities, not just for humans, but for us, are endless, and we just don’t see it!! But if I had fallen for their fallacy, I’d be none of those things: I’d be trapped. I’d be a monster. And that 'd be the end of it”

Yakko stood up, giving the toon mouse his trademark sardonic smile. 

“So, be a megalomaniac if you wanna. And be an asshole, since you’re inordinately good at that. But you can also be an actor if you really want to. You’re good.” He yawned “I’d love to stay and chat even more, but I gotta find my sibs and go home. We’re taking Scratchy to Applebee’s tomorrow morning” He cupped his mouth with one hand and leaned over the mouse “Hopefully this time he chooses the apples.” he whispered with a wink. 

And with an elegant bow, the kid disappeared.

…

As Brain headed back to the party, a noise inside one of the empty warehouses caught his attention. He walked towards the faint footsteps, finding a creature standing in the shadows. And as it walked towards the light, it's silky white fur reflected the moon.

Silencing his footsteps with toon physics, he spied on the little creature. It was Pinky, holding a suitcase. He didn’t wear his suit anymore, just the bowtie.

In a rare moment of dignified reflection, Pinky stood under the moonlight, staring at something in front of him, with the same yearning he once stared at the TV screen with. As Brain’s eyes got used to the darkness, he distinguished the lifesize cardboard cutouts of the Warner Siblings. Next to it, another cutout, this one bigger than them, showed the two mice, with bright pink letters reading: “Pinky and the Brain”. It was the day he felt sick, and as a result he was frowning in the picture, looking miserable. But cardboard Pinky smiled, and his eyes were that exotic shade of blue and, who was he kidding, better than any pool in any mansion, better than any summer sky. 

“Brain?” The real Pinky spoke, and he held his breath. But Pinky, his back turned against him, brushed the dust off cardboard Brain, lovingly “I’m so sorry. I was so happy living my dream that I completely forgot about yours! I thought you were happy! Zort! But you weren’t! Maybe I didn’t notice? Maybe I didn’t _want_ to notice.” he sighed, so deeply it seemed he had taken the oxygen of the entire room.

“You think I’m stupid, but I’m not! Well… sometimes. Only on _chewsdays_. Oh wait, no no, today is Satudesday, Poit! Or is it Wedthursday? No, wait... Let me start over.” He cleared his throat. “Dear Brain: I’m sorry. I’ve been an awful friend! Please don’t leave me! I wanna help you take over the world! Even if sometimes I mess things up, narf” He broke down, and Brain decided it was time to intervene.

““Pinky?” He finally dared to say. Pinky stared at Brain’s cardboard cutout, his ears twitching upwards “I’m not the cardboard, you idiot, I’m behind you.” Brain muttered, and Pinky quickly wiped his face before turning towards his friend. 

“Brain! We were just talking about you! Brain… and I.” he pointed towards the cardboard “Well, not you, Brain, the cardboard you, like that time you told me there was a human you! Narf! Spooky, isn’t--?” Pinky began, and Brain took notice of the suitcase on his hands.

“What are you doing with that suitcase?” Brain interrupted him. 

“I know you’re not happy here. I’ve noticed. And I know you said you wanted me to stay, but I don’t want this without you!” He pointed towards the cardboards, twirling gracefully, even now. “I don’t want any of this!” To demonstrate, he took off his bowtie and threw it to the ground, stepping over it on his way to cup Brain’s hands in his. 

“My porpoise has always been to make you happy. Do you wanna know what she told me? She said...” He imitated the sounds of a sea mammal, but Brain covered his mouth.

“That won’t be necessary” Brain assured him “I… believe you”

“Brain, I want you to be happy, and you’re not very happy here, so…” He blinked, his eyes watery again “I already said goodbye to my new friends” he pouted.

Oh! So Pinky had finally decided to be reasonable! Ignoring the now all too familiar pain in his chest, Brain began pondering. They could sleep on the street for a few days, find a new lab… And he congratulated himself, for standing his ground. Soon, Pinky would forget about this, he’d forget about the short segment they almost got, in a dumb cartoon no one would ever watch. 

“Yes! For once, I appreciate your common sense, Pinky” Brain congratulated him, thankful that this whole nightmare was over, and they’d go back to focusing on better, more realistic goals, like trying to take over the world. Together, as it was meant to be, without one of them falling for the glamour of the silver screen. “So, are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

“I think so Brain, but why do they say it never rains in southern California when it feels like it’s pouring?” 

“It’s a metaphor, Pinky” Brain explained, walking towards the warehouse door “for broken Hollywood--” He stepped over something and stopped, looking down. “--dreams”

It was Pinky’s glittery bowtie, now covered in dust. 

The symbolism didn’t escape him, and he stood there for a second, staring at the bowtie, the dream Pinky so lovingly dreamt, for him to carelessly step over it on his way towards world domination. 

Something about that sounded dreadfully wrong. The bowtie at his feet started getting wet and he realized he was crying.

“Brain? Are you ready?” Pinky asked, and he looked up. Pinky stood exactly under a leak on the roof, and the moonlight shone over him like a spotlight, his fur still shiny and silky, despite the dust sticking to his wet cheeks; his eyes were still striking despite being puffy and slightly red… He was still stunning, born to perform. 

And Brain was taking it all away.

“Brain?” Pinky insisted, confused at his friend’s contrite expression.

“You really want this, do you?” He asked after a while, and Pinky bit his lip.

“It’s okay, Brain, _poit_! We gotta prepare for tomorrow night! This is what you want!”

“But what do _you_ want?” He demanded, and the lanky mouse collapsed in silent tears.

“Well, I was thinking...” he sniffed, wringing his tail anxiously between his hands.

“Did it hurt?” Brain couldn’t resist.

“Yes, a little.” Pinky nodded energically “I was thinking, if the show succeeds, wouldn’t that, in a way, be like taking over the world?”

Brain looked at the bowtie at his feet, then back at Pinky. In a way, it seemed unfair that they worked night after night for his own dream, while Pinky awaited for his moment. He’d seen him on set. This _was_ his moment. 

He let out a heavy sigh. How could he ever be a fair leader when he wasn’t even fair to his best friend? The inkblot child’s words still resonated inside him. He could be more than one thing. And politics, in a way, were show business.

“This is what we’re gonna do tomorrow night, and every night afterwards” He finally decided, grabbing Pinky’s bowtie, and brushing the dirt away. He signaled Pinky to lean down a little bit and the other mouse obeyed with a quizzical look; and Brain carefully put the bowtie back on its rightful place: over the nice shiny fur of Pinky’s neck.

“We’ll try to take over the world, _twice_!” he squeezed Pinky’s shoulders with a triumphant smile. 

“I don’t get it” Pinky glanced down, since staring at those pink eyes was too difficult. Besides, he felt more tears incoming. 

“Yes, Pinky! First with our plans, and afterwards… look at me” He cupped Pinky’s cheeks to make him stare into his eyes, nuzzling their noses together “afterwards… with our show!”

‘Twas the most enthusiastic “Narf!” ever narfed, and suddenly Brain’s feet no longer touched the ground. His friend had swept him into a bear hug, and while they were spinning, slobbery kisses, nuzzles and happy tears covered his face.

Just for tonight, he decided to let it pass, let Pinky be. Not that he cared about him, or enjoyed the sudden and completely melodramatic moment, so out of the blue, extravagant and… Pinky-like. He didn’t enjoy it one bit, he decided, locking his arms around Pinky, nuzzling his neck, and trying his best not to smile, but he’d let it pass.

He’d someday get his moment as the World’s Overlord; but tonight?

Tonight was Pinky's turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. So this is it. I can't believe it's over.  
> There's a couple of references here that I can think of, one to a really old Tumblr joke about Applebee's and another one about an old song I listened to a lot while writing this, "It Never Rains In Southern California". Oh, and of course Yakko has to praise Pinky's voice :v  
> Like always, I will never ever stop thanking my beta reader, Plutonis, who's also writing an amazing fic on FFN ("Syncytium") that you should totally check out, she's amazing.  
> I also wanted to thank Congressmanmabel, because this chapter shares some resemblance with one of their fics and when I panicked, they were completely cool and sweet about it.  
> And I also wanted to thank all of you for reading, commenting, adding kudos and bookmarks... This was so fun to write and watching your reactions was even better; all the love this fic got really makes my day. So I mean it, thanks a lot for reading, and I'll see you soon!
> 
> Happy 2021!


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